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(rreflf^ truths bear to great men the relation at once of 
cause and effect. A sublime truth, once uttered and made 
a part of standard literature, becomes thereafter a per- 
petual spur to noble deeds. The maxims of the wise form 
part of a nation s intellectual coin, and, like other coin, 
serve both as the measure and the prolific source of intel- 
lectual wealth. Alexander the Great, it is said, con- 
stantly slept with Homer under his pillow. The ideal 
hero of the Iliad helped to make the real heroes of later 
G-reece. Great ideas, in fact, usually precede and cause 
illustrious achievements. Hence it is that the literature 
of a people invariably contains within it that which has 
made the people what it is. 

The object of the compiler of the present work was to 
collect into a narrow compass, and to arrange in a form 
convenient for reference and consultation, a choice collec- 
tion of the remarkable utterances of the great among all 
nations, but chiefly of the great men among the Anglo- 
Saxon race. The American Edition has been enlarged 
and enriched by numerous extracts from the writings of 



our own distinguished men. Among those eminent Ame- 
ricans whose choicest sayings have here been garnered, 
may be mentioned the names of Washington, Adams, 
Jefferson, Franklin, Hamilton, Ames, Wirt, Clay, 
Calhoun, Webster, Story, Jonathan Edwards, Archi- 
bald Alexander, Wayland, Channing, Irving, Cooper, 
Bryant, Longfellow, Everett, Prescott, Bancroft, Emer- 
son, and many others. 

The work, as thus enlarged and enriched, forms a 
mine of thought of inestimable value to every one. To 
the young, particularly, it is of special value-, as fur- 
nishing the means of storing the youthful mind with a 
fund of high and ennobling thoughts, such as have 
shaped the destinies of the great and good who have 
preceded them. 

4 t£o imi&o s-vs&'ir/ a^E^rTf 8«63 




atJUSe Of Softer. — Shakspeare. 
THAT Man, that sits within a Monarch's heart, 

And ripens in the sunshine of his favour, 
Would he abuse the countenance of the King, 
Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach, 
In shadow of such Greatness ! 

^CCUSattOn. — Shakspeare. 

I would, I could 
Quit all offences with as clear excuse, 
As well as, I am doubtless, I can pur£e 
Myself of many I am charged withal : 
Yet such extenuation let me beg, 
As, in reproof of many tales devised, 
By smiling Pick-thanks and base Newsmongers, 
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth 
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular, 
Find pardon on my true submission. 

Acquaintance. — Seneca. 

TT is safer to affront some People than to oblige them ; for the 
better a Man deserves, the worse they will speak of him. 

acquaintance. —Cowley. 

TF we engage into a large Acquaintance and various familiarities, 
we set open our gates to the Invaders of most of our time : we 
expose our Life to a quotidian Ague of frigid Impertinences, which 
would make a wise Man tremble to think of. Now, as for being 
known much by sight, and pointed at, I cannot comprehend the 
Honour that lies in that : whatsoever it be, every Mountebank has 
it more than the best Doctor. 

l l 


Acquaintance. — Lord Bacon. 
"IT is good discretion not to make too much of any man at the 
first; because one cannot hold out that proportion. 

acquaintance, — La Rochefoucauld. 
T^THAT makes us like new Acquaintances is not so much any 
weariness of our old ones, or the pleasure of change, as 
disgust at not being sufficiently admired by those who know us 
too well, and the hope of being more so by those who do not know 
so much of us. 

Acquirement. — Coiton. 

'THAT which we acquire with the most difficulty we retain the 
longest ; as those who have earned a fortune are usually more 
careful than those who have inherited one. 

Acting. — From the French. 
THERE is no secret in the heart which our Actions do not 
disclose. The most consummate hypocrite cannot at all times 
conceal the workings of the Mind. 

Acting. — Tillotson. 
TT is hard to personate and act a part along ; for where Truth is 
not at the bottom, Nature will always be endeavouring to return, 
and will' peep out and betray herself one time or other. 

Action. — Colton. 
p)ELIBERATE jjith Caution, but act with Decision ; and yield 
with Graciousness, or oppose with Firmness. 

Actibitg. — Longfellow. 
T IVES of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 
And, departing, leave behind us 

Footprints on the sands of Time. 
Let us then be up and doing; 

With a heart for any fate, 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 
Learn to labour and to wait. 

Adaptation. — Lord Greville. 
AS we should adapt the style of our writing to the Capacity of 
the Person it is addressed to, so should we our manner of 
acting ; for as Persons of inferior Understandings will misconceive, 
and perhaps suspect some sophistry from an Elegance of Expres- 
sion which they cannot comjrrehend, so Persons of inferior Sentiment 
will probably mistake the intention, or even suspect a fraud from 
a delicacy of acting which they want capacity to feel. 


adaptation. — From the Latin. 
TJE alone is wise who can accommodate himself to all the contin- 
gencies of Life ; but the fool contends, and is struggling, like 
a swimmer against the stream. 

adaptation. — Shakspeare. 
To the latter end of a Fray, and the beginning of a Feast, 
Fits a dull Fighter, and a keen Guest. 

&*aptattOn. — £*. Eoremond. 

AS long as you are engaged in the World, you must comply with 

its maxims; because nothing is more unprofitable, than the 

Wisdom of those persons who set up for Reformers of the Age. 

'Tis a part a man cannot act long, without offending his friends 

and rendering himself ridiculous. 

adaptation Gresset. 

The Eagle of one House is the Fool in another. 

atftreSS. — Colton. 

A MAN who knows the World, will not only make the most of 

every thing he does know, but of many things he does not 

know, and will gain more credit by his adroit mode of hiding his 

Ignorance, than the Pedant by his awkward attempt to exhibit his 


atJOration Shakspeare. 

Religious in mine error, I adore 

The Sun, that looks upon his worshipper, 

But knows of him no more. 

atjbersfitg.— Horace. 
A DVERSITY has the effect of eliciting Talents, which, in pros- 
perous Circumstances, would have lain dormant. 

atlbetSitp. — Shakspeare. 
You were used 
To say, Extremity was the trier of Spirits ; 
That common chances common men could bear; 
That, when the Sea was calm, all boats alike 
Show'd mastership in floating : Fortune's blows, 
When most struck home, being gentle wounded, crave 
A noble cunning. 

atlberSitj).— Byron. 

Some, bow'd and bent, 
Wax gray and ghastly, withering ere their time, 
And perish with the reed on which they leant ; 
Some seek Devotion, Toil, War, Good or Crime, 
According as their Souls were form'd to sink or climb. 


atlberSttg — Ordbhe. 

In this wild world the fondest and the best 

Are the most tried, most troubled, and distress'd. 

gtttoWJSttg, — Thomson. 

Ye good distress'd ! 
Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand 
Beneath Life's pressure, yet bear up awhile, 
And what your bounded view, which only saw 
A little part, deem'd evil, is no more ; 
The storms of wintry Time will quickly pass, 
And one unbounded Spring encircle all. 

atlbeCSttg. — Rogers. 
The good are better made by ill : — 
As odours crush' d are sweeter still ! 

gUtoermtg. — Byron. 

A THOUSAND years scarce serve to form a State ; 

An hour may lay it in the dust; and when 
Can Man its shatter'd splendour renovate, 
Recall its virtues back, and vanquish Time and Fate ? 

EtluCCSttg. — Lord Grevilk. 

A SK the Man of Adversity, how other men act towards him : 

ask those others, how he acts towards them. Adversity is the 

true touchstone of Merit in both; happy if it does not produce 

the dishonesty of Meanness in one, and that of Insolence and Pride 

in the other. 

EtlbeCSttg. — Shakspeare. 
Sweet are the uses of Adversity ; 
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. 

EtlbetS \X^ — Addison. 
'THE Gods in bounty work up Storms about us, 

That give Mankind occasion to exert 
Their hidden Strength, and throw out into practice 
Virtues that shun the day, and lie conceal' d 
In the smooth seasons and the calms of Life. 

atjbctSttg. — Young. 

Affliction is the good Man's shining scene : 

Prosperity conceals his brightest ray ; 

As Night to Stars, Woe lustre gives to Man. 

^^itt.—Von Knebel. 
TTE who can take Advice, is sometimes superior to him who can 

give it. 



Affafiilitg. — From the French. 
Affability in a Prince is the magnet of Truth. 

Affectation* — Cowper. 

TN Man or Woman, but far most in Man, 
And most of all in Man that ministers 
And serves the Altar, in my Soul I loathe 
All Affectation. 'Tis my perfect Scorn; 
Object of my implacable disgust. 

Affectation. — From the French. 
"E are never rendered so ridiculous by Qualities which we pos- 
sess, as by those which we aim at, or affect to have. 

Affectation.— Savaie. 

T WILL not call Vanity and Affectation twins, because, more 
properly, Vanity is the Mother, and Affectation is the darling 
Daughter; Vanity is the Sin, and Affectation is the Punishment; 
the first may be called the Root of Self-love, the other the Fruit. 
Vanity is never at its full growth, till it spreadeth into Affecta- 
tion ; and then it is complete. 

affeCtatlOtl.— St. Evremond. 
AFFECTATION is a greater enemy to the Face than the small- 

Affectation. — Goldsmith. 
'THE unaffected of every Country nearly resemble each other, 
and a page of our Confucius and your Tillotson have scarce any 
material difference. Paltry Affectation, strained Allusions, and dis- 
gusting Finery, are easily attained by those who choose to wear 
them ; they are but too frequently the badges of Ignorance, or of 
Stupidity, whenever it would endeavour to please. 

affWttOn.— SJiakspeare. 
UNREASONABLE Creatures feed their young: 

And though Man's face be fearful to their eyes, 
Yet, in Protection of their tender ones, 
Who hath not seen them (even with those wings 
Which sometimes they have used with fearful flight) 
Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, 
Offering their own lives in their young's defence? 

affection.— Rogers. 

Gknerous as brave, 
Affection, Kindness, the sweet offices 
Of Love and Duty, were to him as needful 
As his daily bread. 


flLftUtiOn.— Shakspeare. 

I have given suck : and know 
How tender 'tis, to love the babe that milks me. 

Affection,— Anon. 
TN the Intercourse of social Life, it is by little acts of watchful 
Kindness, recurring daily and hourly, — and opportunities of 
doing Kindnesses, if sought for, are for ever starting up, — it is by 
Words, by Tones, by Gestures, by Looks, that Affection is won and 
preserved. He who neglects these trifles, yet boasts that, when- 
ever a great sacrifice is called for, he shall be ready to make it, 
will rarely be loved. The likelihood is, he will not make it : and 
if he does, it will be much rather for his own sake, than for his 

&ff eCttOtt, — Shakspeare. 

The poor Wren, 
The most diminutive of birds, will fight, 
Her young ones in her nest, against the Owl. 

EffeCttOn. —Shakspeare. 

A Grandam's name is little less in Love 
Than is the doting title of a Mother. 
They are as Children, but one step below. 

£l00» — Shakspeare. 
0, Sir, you are old ; 
Nature in you stands on the very verge 
Of her confine ; you should be ruled and led 
By some discretion, that discerns your state 
Better than you yourself. 

£lQ£, — Shakspeare. 
T'HE aim of all is but to nurse the Life 

With Honour, Wealth and Ease, in waning Age: 
And in this aim there is such thwarting strife, 
That one for all, or all for one we gage : 
As Life for Honour in fell Battles rage, 
Honour for Wealth, and oft that Wealth doth cost 
The death of all, and altogether lost. 
So that in vent' ring all, we leave to be 
The things we are for that which we expect : 
And this ambitious foul Infirmity, 
In having much, torments us with defect 
Of that we have : so then we do neglect 
The thing we have, and all for want of Wit, 
Make something nothing by augmenting it. 


&g** — Steele. 
A X healthy old Fellow, that is not a Fool, is the happiest creature 
living. It is at that Time of Life only Men enjoy their facul- 
ties with pleasure and satisfaction. It is then we have nothing to 
manage, as the phrase is; we speak the downright Truth, and 
whether the rest of the World will give us the privilege or not, we 
have so little to ask of them, that we can take it. 

**8£* — La Rochefoucauld. 
Few People know how to be old. 

a§e.— Byron. 

VET Time, who changes all, had alter'd him 
In Soul and Aspect as in Age : Years steal 
Fire from the Mind as vigour from the Limb : 
And Life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim. 

glge. — Sir W. Temple. 
'THERE cannot live a more unhappy creature than an ill-natured 
old Man who is neither capable of receiving pleasures nor sen- 
sible of doing them to others. 

.H(je. — Shakspeare. 

These old Fellows have 
Their Ingratitude in them hereditary : 
Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it seldom flows ; 
'Tis lack of kindly warmth, they are not kind; 
And Nature, as it grows again toward Earth, 
Isfashion'd for the journey, dull and heavy. 

3tJC — Pope. 
[" EARN to live well, or fairly make your will ; 

You've play'd, and lov'd, and ate, and drank your Fill, 
Walk sober off, before a sprightlier Age 
Come's titt'ring on, and shoves you from the stage : 
Leave such to trifle with more grace and ease 
Whom folly pleases, and whose follies please. 

2l(je. — Armstrong. 
Though old, he still retain'd 
His manly Sense, and energy of Mind. 
Virtuous and wise he was, but not severe ; 
He still remember'd that he once was young : 
His easy presence check'd no decent joy. 
Him even the dissolute admir'd ; for he 
A graceful looseness when he pleas' d put on, 
And laughing could instruct. 


&ge. — Spenser. 
'"THE careful cold hath nipt my rugged rind, 

And in my Face deep furrows eld hath plight; 
My Head besprent with hoary frost I find, 
And by mine Eye the crow his claw doth wright ; 
Delight is laid abed, and pleasure, past; 
No Sun now shines, clouds have all over-cast. 

£lge» — Young. 
A GE should fly concourse, cover in retreat 
Defects of Judgment, and the will subdue; 
Walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore 
Of that vast Ocean it must sail so soon. 

glge*— Swift. 

YITHEN Men grow virtuous in their old Age, they are merely 
making a sacrifice to God of the Devil's leavings. 

/3.QP. — Madame de Stael. 
It is difficult to grow old gracefully. 

EgmafclnUSS. — La Rochefoucauld. 
Y\TE may say of Agreeableness, as distinct from Beauty, that it 
consists in a Symmetry of which we know not the rules, and 
a secret Conformity of the Features to each other, and to the air 
and complexion of the Person. 

&tmS* —Kant. 
TITHAT are the Aims, which are at the same time Duties ? 
They are, the perfecting of ourselves, the happiness of 

13dng alone. — Cowley. 

r FHE first Minister of State has not so much business in public, 
as a wise Man has in private : if the one have little leisure to 
be alone, the other has less leisure to be in Company; the one 
has but part of the affairs of one nation, the other all the works 
of God and Nature under his consideration. 

EminttOtt, — La Rochefoucauld. 
IV/rODERATTON cannot have the credit of combating and sub- 
duing Ambition — they are never found together. Moderation 
is the Languor and Indolence of the Soul, as Ambition is its Ac- 
tivity and Ardour. 

EmfotttOtt. — Byron. 
TTE who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find 

The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow ; 
He who surpasses or subdues Mankind, 
Must look down on the hate of those below. 


.HmbtttOlt. — Shalcspeare. 

I have ventur'd, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
This many summers in a Sea of Glory : 
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown Pride 
At length broke under me ; and now has left me, 
"Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. 

amutttOn. — Byron. 
T>UT quiet to quick bosoms is a Hell, 

And there hath been thy bane ; there is a Fire 
And motion of the Soul which will not dwell 
In its own narrow Being, but aspire 
Beyond the fitting medium of Desire; 
And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore, 
Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire 
Of aught but rest ; a Fever at the core, 
Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore. 
This makes the Madmen who have made men mad 
By their contagion; Conquerors and Kings, 
Founders of Sects and Systems, to whom add 
Sophists, Buds, Statesmen, all unquiet Things 
Which stir too strongly the Soul's secret Springs, 
And are themselves the Fools to those they fool ; 
Envied, yet how uuenviable ! what stings 
Are theirs ! One breast laid open were a School 
Which would unteach Mankind the Lust to shine or rule. 

HmttttOn. — Shakspeare. 
T)REAMS, indeed, are Ambition; for the very substance of the 
ambitious is merely the shadow of a Dream. And I hold 
Ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but a shadow's 

3 m u tt 1 : It . — La Bnu/ere. 
A SLAVE has but one Master, the ambitious Man has as many 
Masters as there are persons whose aid may contribute to the 
advancement of his Fortune. 

Slmugf mcnt0. — Burton. 
I" ET the World have their May-games, Wakes, Whitsunales ; 
their Dancings and Concerts ; their Puppet-shows, Hobby- 
horses, Tabors, Bagpipes, Balls, Barley-breaks, and whatever 
Bporta and recreations please them best, provided they be fol- 
lowed with discretion. 


Enatfjema. — ShaJcspeare. 

If she must teem, 
Create her child of Spleen, that it may live, 
And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her ! 
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of Youth ; 
With cadent tears fret channels in her Cheeks ; 
Turn all her Mother's pains, and benefits, 
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel, 
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, 
To have a thankless child ! 

&rtati)ema. — ShaJcspeare. 
r\ VILLAINS, Vipers, damn'd without redemption; 

Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man ; 
Snakes in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart; 
Three Judasses, each one thrice worse than Judas I 

glnatCimg. — Melandhon. 
TT is shameful for Man to rest in ignorance of the structure of 
his own Body, especially when the knowledge of it mainly con- 
duces to his welfare, and directs his application of his own 

ancestry — Coiton. 

TT is with Antiquity as with Ancestry, Nations are proud of the 
one, and Individuals of the other ; but if they are nothing in 
themselves, that which is their pride ought to be their humilia- 

%Lmt8tt$. — Percival. 

I am one, 
Who finds within me a nobility, 
That spurns the idle pratings of the great, 
And their mean boast of what their fathers were, 
While they themselves are fools effeminate, 
The scorn of all who know the worth of mind 
And virtue. 

giltfCStq). — Dankl Webster. 
'THERE may be, and there often is, indeed a regard for an- 
cestry, which nourishes only a weak pride ; as there is also a 
care for posterity, which only disguises an habitual avarice, or 
hides the workings of a low and grovelling vanity. But there is 
also a moral and philosophical respect for our ancestors, which ele- 
vates the character and improves the heart. 

£ttt0Cr. — ShaJcspeare. 
Must I give way and room to your rash Choler ? 
Shall I be frighted, when a Madman stares ? 

gLnQtt. — ShaJcspeare. 
Fret, till your proud heart break ; 
Go, show your Slaves how choleric you are, 
And make your Bondsmen tremble. Must I budge? 
Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch 
Under your testy humour ? By the Gods, 
You shall digest the venom of your Spleen, 
Though it do split you : for, from this day forth, 
I'll use you for my Mirth, yea, for my Laughter, 
When you are waspish. 

anger.— piutarc%. 

r THE continuance and frequent fits of Anger produce an evil 
habit in the Soul, called Wrathfulness, or a propensity to be 
angry ; which ofttimes ends in Choler, Bitterness, and Morosity ; 
when the Mind becomes ulcerated, peevish, and querulous, and 
like a thin, weak plate of iron, receives impression, and is wounded 
by the least occurrence. 

Hnget.— Pope. 

'THEN flash'd the living Lightning from her eyes, 
And screams of horror rend th' affrighted skies. 
Not louder shrieks to pitying Heaven are cast, 
When husbands, or when lap-dogs, breathe their last; 
Or when rich china vessels, fall'n from high, 
In glitt'ring dust and painted fragments lie ! 

&ltget. — Spenser. 
A ND him beside rides fierce revenging Wrath 

Upon a Lion loth for to be led ; 
And iu his hand a burning Brond he hath, 
The which he brandisheth about his hed ; 
His eies did hurle forth sparcles fiery red, 
And stared sterne on all that him beheld ; 
As ashes pale of hew and seeming ded ; 
And on his dagger still his hand he held 
Trembling through hasty Rage when Choler in him sweld. 

ginger. — Savage. 
When Anger rushes, uurestrain'd to action, 
Like a hot steed, it stumbles in its way. 
The Man of Thought strikes deepest, and strikes safely. 

Hngcr.— Coiton. 

r riIE Sun should not set upon our Anger, neither should he rise 
upon our Confidence. We should forgive freely, but forget 
rarely. I will not be revenged, and this I owe to my Enemy; 
but 1 will remember, and this I owe to myself 



anger, — Clarendon. 
A NGRY and choleric Men are as ungrateful and unsociable as 
Thunder and Lightning, being in themselves all Storm and 
Tempests; but quiet and easy Natures are like fair Weather, 
welcome to all, and acceptable to all Men; they gather together 
what the other disperses, and reconcile all whom the other in- 
censes : as they have the good will and the good wishes of all other 
Men, so they have the full possession of themselves, have all their 
own thoughts at peace, and enjoy quiet and ease in their own 
fortunes, how strait soever it may be. 

Unger. — Shakspeare. 
T ET your Reason with your Choler question 

What 'tis you go about. To climb steep hills 
Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like 
A full hot horse ; who being allow'd his way, 
Self-mettle tires him. 

&Ttgcr<— Plutarch. 
T AMENTATION is the only musician that always, like a screech- 
owl, alights and sits on the roof of an angry Man. 

&ttgtf* : -— Plutarch. 

"TAD I a careful and pleasant companion, that should show me 
my angry face in a glass, I should not at all take it ill; to 
behold a Man's self so unnaturally disguised and disordered, will 
conduce not a little to the Impeachment of Anger. 

&ntagOnt!Sm. — Lord Greville. 
COME Characters are like some bodies in Chemistry; very good 
perhaps in themselves, yet fly off and refuse the least conjunc- 
tion with each other. 

Cj)e antt^Uarg. — Peter Pindar. 
"DARE are the Buttons of a Roman's breeches, 

In Antiquarian eyes surpassing riches : 
Rare is each crack'd, black, rotten, earthen dish, 
That held of ancient Rome the flesh and fish. 

Entt^ttttg.— Chesterfield. 

J DO by no means advise you to throw away your Time, in ran- 
sacking, like a dull Antiquarian, the minute and unimportant 
parts of remote and fabulous times. Let blockheads read, what 
blockheads wrote. 

EttttqjUttg. — Tacitus. 

A LL those things which are now held to be of the greatest An- 
tiquity, were, at one time, new; and what we to-day hold up 
by Example, will rank hereafter as a Precedent. 


&ttttquttg* — Colton. 
TT has been observed, that a Dwarf standing on the shoulders 
of a Giant, will see farther than the Giant himself; and the 
Moderns, standing as they do on the vantage-ground of former dis- 
coveries, and uniting all the fruits of the experience of their fore- 
fathers, with their own actual observation, may be admitted to 
enjoy a more enlarged and comprehensive view of things than the 
Ancients themselves; for that alone is true Antiquity, which em- 
braces the Antiquity of the World, and not that which would refer 
us back to a period when the World was young. But by whom is 
this true Antiquity enjoyed? Not ty the Ancients who did live 
in the infancy, but by the Moderns who do live in the maturity of 

ErtttqUttg.— Burke. 
"lYTHEN ancient Opinions and Rules of Life are taken away, the 
loss cannot possibly be estimated. From that moment we 
have no compass to govern us; nor can we know distinctly to 
what nort to steer. 

EppcatanreS. — Shakspeare. 
'THE World is still deceived with Ornament. 
In Law, what Plea so tainted and corrupt, 
But, being season'd with a gracious Voice, 
Obscures the Show of Evil ? In Religion, 
What damned Error, but some sober Brow 
Will bless it, and approve it with a text, 
Hiding the grossness with fair Ornament? 
There is no Vice so simple, but assumes 
Some mark of Virtue on its outward parts. 
How many Cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
The beards of Hercules, and frowning Mars; 
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk ? 
And these assume but Valour's excrement, 
To render them redoubted. Look on Beauty, 
And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight; 
Which therein works a miracle in Nature, 
Making them lightest that wear most of it : 
So are those crisped snaky golden locks, 
Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, 
Upon supposed Fairness, often known 
To be the dowry of a second head, 
The skull that bred them, in the sepulchre. 
Thus Ornament is but the guiled shore 
To the most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf 


Vailing an Indian beauty ; in a word, 

The seeming Truth which cunning Times put on 

To entrap the wisest. 

Appearances, —ia Rochefoucauld. 
TN all the professions every one affects a particular look and ex- 
terior, in order to appear what he wishes to be thought ; so that 
it may be said the World is made up of Appearances. 

Appearances. — Churchill. 

Appearances to save his only care ; 

So things seem right, no matter what they are. 

Appearances. — s/mkspeare. 

'THERE is a fair Behaviour in thee, Captain ; 

And though that Nature with a beauteous wall 
Doth often close in pollution, yet of thee 
I will believe, thou hast a Mind that suits 
With this thy fair and outward Character. 

SlppceCtattOn. — Lord GrevilU. 
VOU may fail to shine, in the opinion of others, both in your 
Conversation and Actions, from being superior, as well as in- 
ferior, to them. 

appccfteiston. — Burke. 
"DETTER to be despistd for too anxious apprehensions, than 
ruined by too confident a security. 

argument.— Butler. 
It is vain 
^1 see) to argue 'gainst the grain, 
>r like the stars, incline men to 
What they're averse themselves to do; 
For when disputes are wearied out, 
; Tis inter'st still resolves the doubt. 

artStOCraCg. —Eward Everett. 
\\THAT subsists to-day by violence, continues to-morrow by 
acquiescence, and is perpetuated by tradition ; till at last the 
hoary abuse shakes the gray hairs of antiquity at us, and gives 
itself out as the wisdom of ages. Thus the clearest dictates of 
reason are made to yield to a long succession of follies. 

And this is the foundation of the aristocratic system at the 
present day. Its stronghold, with all those not immediately inte- 
rested in it, is the reverence of antiquity. 

art. — From the Latin. 
It is the Height of Art to conceal Art. 



< — -Lavater. 
HTHE enemy of Art is the enemy of Nature ; Art is nothing but 
the highest sagacity and exertions of Human Nature ; and what 
Nature will he honour who honours not the Human ? 

Artifice. — La Rochefoucauld. 
'THE ordinary employment of Artifice is the mark of a petty 
Mind ; and it almost always happens that he who uses it to 
cover himself in one place, uncovers himself in another. 

,R CntlCe. — Washington Irving. 
'THERE is a certain artificial polish — a common-place vivacity 
acquired by perpetually mingling in the beau Monde, which, in 
the commerce of the World, supplies the place of natural suavity 
and good humour, but is purchased at the expense of all original 
and sterling traits of Character : by a kind of fashionable discipline, 
the Eye is taught to brighten, the Lip to smile, and the whole 
Countenance to emanate with the semblance of friendly Welcome, 
while the Bosom is unwarmed by a single Spark of genuine 
Kindness and good-will. 

&8CCn'iiCnC)).—Lord Greville. 
WHATEVER natural Right Men may have to Freedom and 
Independency, it is mauifest that some Men have a natural 
Ascendency over others. 

.Asking. — Fuller. 
TF thou canst not obtain a Kindness which thou desirest, put a 
good face on it, show no Discontent nor Surliness : an hour 
may come, when thy request may be granted. 

.HSSOCtatCS. — From the Latin. 
TF you always live with those who are lame, you will yourself 
learn to limp. 

.HSSOCt'atCS. — La Bnujere. 
TF Men wish to be held in Esteem, they must associate with those 
only who are estimable. 

Associates. — Lavater. 
TE who comes from the Kitchen smells of its smoke ; he who 
adheres to a Sect has something of its Cant; the College-Air 
pursues the Student, and dry Inhumanity him who herds with 
literary Pedants. 

aSSOCiateS. — Lord Chesterfield. 
("MIOOSE the company of your superiors, whenever you can 
have it; that is the right and true Pride. 

assuming. — jhMoy. 

A SSUMED Qualities may catch the Affections of some, but one 
must possess Qualities really good, to fix the heart. 


&8J50riate8. — Fuller. 
ASSOCIATE with Men of good Judgment: for Judgment is 
found in Conversation. And we make another Man's Judg- 
ment ours, by frequenting his Company. 

&00OCtate!3. — Shakspeare. 

Thou art noble ; yet, I see, 
Thy honourable Metal may be wrought 
From that it is disposed. Therefore 'tis meet 
That noble Minds keep ever with their Likes : 
For who so firm, that cannot be seduced ? 

ESttuttOmp. — Cicero. 
THE contemplation of Celestial Things will make a Man both 
speak and think more sublimely and magnificently when he 
descends to human affairs. 

attjetSttt. — Hare. 
THERE is no being eloquent for Atheism. In that exhausted 
receiver the Mind cannot use its wings, — the clearest proof 
that it is out of its element. 

&tf) etStm —Lord Herbert of Cherbury. 
V/ITHOEVER considers the Study of Anatomy, I believe, will 
never be an Atheist; the frame of Man's Body, and Cohe- 
rence of his Parts, being so strange and paradoxical, that I hold 
it to be the greatest Miracle of Nature. 

gUjjetgm* — Washington Allston. 
THE atheist may speculate, and go on speculating till he is 
brought up by annihilation; he may then return to life, and 
reason away the difference between good and evil ; he may even go 
further, and imagine to himself the perpetration of the most atro- 
cious acts ; and still he may eat his bread with relish, and sleep 
soundly in his bed; for his sins, wanting as it were substance, 
having no actual solidity to leave their traces in his memory, all 
future retribution may seem to him a thing with which, in any event, 
he can have no concern ; but let him once turn his theory to practice — 
let him make crime palpable — in an instant he feels its hot impress 
on his soul. 

&Utf)0tttg- — Shakspeare. 
^HOUG-H Authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led by 
the nose with gold. 

&Utf)0tttg- — Shakspeare. 
Authority, though it err like others, 
Hath yet a kind of Med'cine in itself, 
That skins the vice o' the top. 


.HlitfjOrttg. — Shdkspeare. 

Place ! Form ! 
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, 
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls 
To thy false seeming ? 

HlltfjOntg. — Shdkspeare. 
Authority bears a credent bulk, 
That no particular scandal one can touch, 
But it confounds the breather. 

HutfjOCS.— Johnson. 
T>EOPLE may be taken in once, who imagine that an Author is 
greater in private life than other Men. 

EutljOTS. _ Longfellow. 
T'HE motives and purposes of authors are not always so pure and 
high, as, in the enthusiasm of youth, we sometimes imagine. 
To many the trumpet of fame is nothing but a tin horn to call them 
home, like laborers from the field, at dinner-time, and they think 
themselves lucky to get the dinner. 

authors. — Colton. 
TT is a doubt whether Mankind are most indebted to those who, 
like Bacon and Butler, dig the gold from the mine of Literature, 
or to those who, like Paley, purify it, stamp it, fix its real value, 
and give it currency and utility. For all the practical purposes 
of Life, Truth might as well be in a prison as in the folio of a 
Schoolman, and those who release her from her cobwebbed shelf, 
and teach her to live with Men, have the merit of liberating, if not 
of discovering her. 

EuttjOUS. — Sir Egerton Brydges. 
A UTHORS have not always the power or habit of throwing 
their talents into conversation. There are some very just 
and well-expressed observations on this point in Johnson's Life 
of Dryden, who was said not at all to answer in this respect the 
Character of his Genius. I have observed that vulgar readers 
almost always lose their veneration for the writings of the Genius 
with whom they have had personal intercourse. 

&Utf)Ot0. — Colton. 
'pHE Society of dead Authors has this advantage over that of the 
living ) they never flatter us to our faces, nor slander us be- 
hind our backs, nor intrude upon our privacy, nor quit their 
shelves until we take them down. Besides, it is always easy to 
shut a Book, but not quite so easy to get rid of a lettered Cox- 


&Utf)0t!5. — Byron. 
"DUT every Fool describes in these bright days 

His wondrous Journey to some foreign Court", 
And spawns his Quarto, and demands your praise. 

&UtijOrS. — Young. 
COME write, confined by Physic; some, by Debt; 

Some, for 'tis Sunday; some, because 'tis wet; 
Another writes because his Father writ, 
And proves himself a Bastard by his Wit. 

&UtJjum — Byron. 
TTE had written Praises of a Regicide ; 

He had written Praises of all Kings whatever ; 
He had written for Republics far and wide, 
And then against them bitterer than ever. 

EutfjOtS.— Butler. 
TV/TUCH thou hast said, which I know when 
And where thou stol'st from other Men ; 
Whereby 'tis plain thy Light and Gifts 
Are all but plagiary Shifts. 

&tttjJ0rg. — Gowper. 

And Novels (witness every Month's Review) 
Belie their Name and offer nothing new. 

%LUt$tlT8.— Johnson. 

CUCCESS and Miscarriage have the same effects in all conditions. 
The prosperous are feared, hated, and flattered ; and the unfor- 
tunate avoided, pitied, and despised. No sooner is a Book pub- 
lished, than the Writer may judge of the opinion of the World. 
If his Acquaintance press round him in public Places, or salute him 
from the other side of the Street ; if Invitations to dinner come 
thick upon him, and those with whom he dines keep him to Supper ; 
if the Ladies turn to him when his coat is plain, and the Footmen 
serve him with attention and alacrity; he may be sure that his 
Work has been praised by some Leader of literary Fashions. 

EutfjOtS.— Byron. 
/~)NE hates an Author that's all Author, Fellows 

In Foolscap uniforms turn'd up with ink, 
So very anxious, clever, fine, and jealous, 

One don't know what to say to them, or think, 
Unless to puff them with a pair of bellows : 

Of Coxcombry's worst Coxcombs, e'en the Pink 
Are preferable to these shreds of paper, 
These unquench'd snuffings of the midnight taper. 


SUltfjOtt).— Spenser. 
TXOW many great Ones may remember'd be, 

Which in their days most famously did flourish, 
Of whom no word we hear, nor Sign now see, 
But as things wip'd out with a do perish, 
Because the living cared not to cherish 
No gentle Wits, through pride or covetize, 
Which might their Names for ever memorize ! 

&Utf)0rg.— Cowper. 

None but an Author knows an Author's cares, 
Or Fancy's fondness for the child she bears. 
&Utumtt Spenser. 

HTHEN came the Autumne, all in Yellow clad, 
As though he joyed in his plenteous store, 

Laden with Fruits that made him laugh, full glad 

That he bad banisht Hunger, which to-fore 

Had by the belly oft him pinched sore ; 

Upon his Head a Wreath, that was enrold 

With ears of Corne of every sort, he bore, 

And in his Hand a Sickle he did holde, 

To reape the ripened Fruit the which the Earth had yold. 

&Uttimn. — Thomson. 
TTLED is the blasted Verdure of the Fields; 

And shrunk into their Beds, the flowery .Race 
Their sunny robes resign. Even what remain'd 
Of stronger Fruits falls from the naked Tree ; 
And Woods, Fields, Gardens, Orchards, all around 
The desolated prospect thrills the soul. 

fSfowtitt.— Hughes. 

IT may be remarked for the comfort of honest Poverty, that Ava- 
rice reigns most in those who have but few good Qualities to 
recommend them. This is a Weed that will grow in a barren Soil. 

abattce. — Moore. 
The Love of G-old, that meanest rage, 
And latest folly of Man's sinking age, 
Which, rarely venturing in the van of life, 
While nobler passions wage their heated strife, 
Comes skulking last, with Selfishness and Fear, 
And dies, collecting lumber in the rear ! 

Ebartce. — Pope. 

TMCHES, like Insects, when conceal'd they lie, 
Wait but for wings, and in their season fly. 
Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store, 


Sees but a backward steward for the poor; 
This year, a reservoir, to keep and spare ; 
The next, a fountain, spouting through his heir, 
In lavish Streams to quench a Country's thirst, 
And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst. 

&bartce, — Pope. 

"\\TEALTH in the gross is death, but Life diffused; 

As Poison heals, in just proportion used : 
In Heaps, like Ambergris, a Stink it lies, 
But well dispersed, is Incense to the Skies. 

&uartCe. — Blair. 
Q CURSED Lust of Gold : when for thy sake 

The Fool throws up his interest in both worlds, 
First starved in this, then damn'd in that to come. 

&battCe. — Spenser. 
A ND greedy Avarice by him did ride 

Upon a Camell leaden all with Gold : 
Two Iron Coffers hong on either side, 
With precious Metall full as they might hold, 
And in his Lap an Heap of Coine he told; 
For of his wicked Pelf his God he made, 
And unto Hell him selfe for Money sold ; 
Accursed Usury was all his Trade, 

And Right and Wrong ylike in equall Ballaunce waide. 
His Life was nigh unto Death's Dore yplaste; 
And thred-bare Cote and cobled Shoes he ware, 
Ne scarse good Morsell all his Life did taste, 
But both from Backe and Belly still did spare, 
To fill his bags, and Richesse to compare : 
Yet Childe nor Kinsman living had he none 
To leave them to; but, thorough daily care 
To get, and nightly feare to loose his owne, 
He led a wretched life unto himself unknowne. 

&battCe. — La Rocliefoucaidd. 
A VARICE often produces opposite effects; there is an infinite 
number of People who sacrifice all their property to doubtful 
ind distant Expectations; others despise great future Advantages 
to obtain present Interests of a trifling nature. 

&battCe. — La Rochefoucauld. 
T^XTREME Avarice almost always mistakes itself; there is no 
Passion which more often deprives itself of its Object, nor on 
which the Present exercises so much Power to the prejudice of the 


Etta nee* — Coiton. 

'THE Avarice of the Miser may be termed the grand Sepulchre 
of all his other Passions, as they successively decay. But, un- 
like other Tombs, it is enlarged by Repletion, and strengthened by 

&tofctoartmess. — CkurcMU. 

TATHAT'S a fine Person, or a beauteous Face, 

Unless Deportment gives them decent Grace ? 
Bless' d with all other requisites to please, 
Some want the striking Elegance of Ease; 
The curious e} T e their awkward movement tires; 
They seem like Puppets led about by wires. 

^atJtnage. — Zimmerman. 
TN the sallies of Badinage a polite fool shines; but in Gravity he 
is as awkwaH ^s an elephant disporting. 

iJilStf UlnrSS. — Fuller. 
r^ONCEIT not so high a notion of any, as to be bashful and im- 
potent in their presence. 

i$asif)f UlllCSS. — Plutarch. 

AS those that pull down private houses adjoining to the Temples 
of the Gods, prop up such parts as are contiguous to them; 
so, in undermining Bashfulness, due regard is to be had to adjacent 
Modesty, Good-nature, and Humanity. 

iiaSijfltlttCSS. — Mackenzie. 
T'HERE are two distinct Sorts of what we call Bashfulness: 
this, the awkwardness of a Booby, which a few steps into the 
world will convert into the pertness of a Coxcomb : that a Con- 
sciousness, which the most delicate Feelings produce, and the most 
extensive Knowledge cannot always remove. 

iSeaUtj). — Shakspeare. 

For her own Person, 
It beggar'd all Description; she did lie 
In her pavilion, 

O'erpicturing that Venus, where we see, 
The Fancy out-work Nature. 

ISeaUtj}.— Byron. 
AN Eye's an Eye, and whether black or blue, 
Is no great matter, so 'tis in request; 
'Tis Nonsense to dispute about a Hue — 

The kindest may be taken as a Test. 
The fair Sex should be always fair; and no Man, 
Till thirty, should perceive there's a plain Woman. 


$3eaUtl>. — Sir A. Hunt. 
WHAT is Beauty? Not the Show 

Of shapely Limbs and Features. No. 
These are but flowers 
That have their dated hours 
To breathe their momentary Sweets, then go. 
'Tis the stainless Soul within 
That outshines the fairest Skin. 

2SeaUtg- — Rogers. 

But then her Face, 
So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, 
The overflowings of an innocent Heart. 

Beaittg. — Byron. 
T\THO bath not proved how feebly Words essay 

To fix one spark of Beauty's heaveu.y ray? 
Who dotb not feel, until his failing sight 
Faints into dimness with its own delight, 
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess 
The Might — the Majesty of Loveliness? 

tttaut)). — Spenser. 
T ONG- while I sought to what I might compare 

Those powerful Eyes, which lighten my dark Spirit; 
Yet found I nought on Earth, to which I dare 
Resemble the Image of their goodly light. 
Not to the Sun, for they do shine by Night; 
Nor to the Moon, for they are changed never; 
Nor to the Stars, for they have purer Sight; 
Nor to the Fire, for they consume not ever; 
Nor to the Lightning, for they still presever; 
Nor to the Diamond, for they are more tender; 
Nor unto Chrystal, for nought may them sever; 
Nor unto Glass, such Baseness mought offend her; 
Then to the Maker's Self they likest be; 
Whose light doth lighten all that here we see 

ISeaittP. — Byron. 
CHE gazed upon a World she scarcely knew 

As seeking not to know it; silent, lone, 
As grows a Flower, thus quietly she grew, 

And kept her Heart serene within its Zone. 
There was Awe in the Homage which she drew; 

Her Spirit seem'd as seated on a throne 
Apart from the surrounding World, and strong 
In its own strength — most strange in one so young! 


i3eautg. — Milton. 

Beauty, like the fair Hesperian Tree 
Laden with blooming Gold, had need the guard 
Of Dragon- watch with unenchanted eye, 
To save her Blossoms and defend her Fruit 
From the rash hand of bold Incontinence. 

13eaUt|). — Spenser. 
pOR shee was full of amiable Grace, 

And manly Terror mixed therewithal; 
That as the one stirr'd up Affections base, 
So th'other did Men's rash Desires apall, 
And hold them backe, that would in error fall : 
As he that hath espide a vermeill Rose, 
To which sharpe Thornes, and Breeres the way forstall, 
Dare not for Dread his hardy Hand expose, 
But wishing it farr off his ydle Wish doth lose. 

!3eaittg. — Shakspeare. 
How like Eve's Apple doth thy Beauty grow, 
If thy sweet Virtue answer not thy Show ! 

iSeautj). — Shakspeare. 
Could Beauty have better commerce than with Honesty? 

BeailtS* — Spenser. 

TTER Looks were like beams of the morning Sun, 
Forth-looking through the window of the East, 
When first the fleecie Cattle have begun 
Upon their perled grass to make their feast. 

ISeaUtg. — Rochester. 
OH ! she is the Pride and Glory of the World : 
Without her, all the rest is worthless dross : 
Life, a base slavery; Empire but a mock; 
And Love, the Soul of all, a bitter curse. 

13eautj). — Byron. 
TTER glossy Hair was cluster'd o'er a Brow 

Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth; 
Her Eyebrow's Shape was like the aerial Bows, 
Her Cheek all purple with the beam of Youth, 
Mounting at times to a transparent glow, 
As if her Veins ran lightning. 

beauty. — Lee. 

Is she not brighter than a Summer's Morn, 

When all the Heaven is streak'd with dappled Fires, 

And fleck'd with Blushes like a rifled Maid? 


33eaUt£. — ShaJcspeare. 
All Orators are dumb, when Beauty pleadeth. 
23eaUt£. — ShaJcspeare. 

The Roman Dame, 
Within whose face Beauty and Virtue strived 
Which of them both should underprop her Fame : 
When Virtue bragg'd Beauty would blush for Shame; 
When Beauty boasted Blushes, in despite 
Virtue would stain that o'er with Silver White. 
But Beauty, in that White intituled, 

IFrom Venus' Doves doth challenge that fair field; 
Then Virtue claims from Beauty Beauty's Bed, 
Which Virtue gave the Golden Age to gild 
Their Silver Cheeks, and call'd it then their shield; 
Teaching them thus to use it in the fight, — 
When Shame assail'd, the Bed should fence the White. 

Ifoatltg, — Milton. 
TJEAUTY is Nature's Coin, must not be hoarded, 

But must be current, and the Good thereof 
Consists in mutual and partaken Bliss, 
', Unsavoury in th' enjoyment of itself: 

If you let slip Time, like a neglected rose, 
It withers on the stalk with languish'd head. 

2BeaUt£ Byron. 

TTER Glance how wildly beautiful! how much 

Hath Phoebus woo'd in vain to spoil her Cheek, 
Which glows yet smoother from his amorous clutch ! . 
Who round the North for paler dames would seek ? 
How poor their forms appear ! how languid, wan, and weak T 

iSeautg. — Spenser. 
VE tradeful Merchants ! that with weary toil 

Do seek most precious things t-o make your gain ; 
And both the Indias of their treasure spoil, 
What needeth you to seek so far in vain ? 
For lo ! my Love doth in herself contain 
All this World's Riches that may far be found; 
If Saphyrs, lo ! her Eyes be Saphyrs plain; 
If Rubies, lo ! her Lips be Rubies sound ; 
If Pearls, her Teeth be Pearls, both pure and round , 
If Ivory, her Forehead Ivory ween ; 
If Gold, her locks are finest Gold on Ground; 
If Silver, her fair Hands are Silver Sheen : 
But that which fairest is, but few behold, 
Her mind, adorn'd with Vertues manifold. 


33eaut|). _ Spenser. 

'THE Fairness of her Face no tongue can tell, 

For she the Daughters of all Women's Race, 
And Angels eke, in Beautie doth excell, 
Sparkled on her from God's owne glorious Face, 
And more increast by her owne goodly Grace, 
That it doth farre exceed all human Thought, 
Ne can on Earth compared be to ought. 

i3eaut£. — Shak'speare. 
Beauty lives with Kindness. 

IScaUtj). _ Crabbe. 
T ! when the Buds expand the Leaves are green, 

Then the first opening of the Flower is seen ; 
Then come the honied breath and rosy smile, 
That with their sweets the willing sense beguile ; 
But as we look, and love, and taste, and praise, 
And the Fruit grows, the charming Flower decays; 
Till all is gather'd, and the wintry blast 
Moans o'er the place of love and pleasure past. 

So 'tis with Beauty, — such the opening grace 
And dawn of glory in the youthful face; 
Then are the charms unfolded to the sight, 
Then all is loveliness and all delight; 
The nuptial tie succeeds, the genial hour, 
And, lo ! the falling off of Beauty's flower; 
So through all Nature is the progress made, — 
The Bud, the Bloom, the Fruit, — and then we fade. 

$3eautt>. — Spenser. 
"POR Beauty is the bait which with delight 
Doth Man allure, for to enlarge his kind ; 
Beauty, the burning lamp of Heaven's light, 
Darting her beams into each feeble Mind, 
Against whose power nor God nor Man can find 
Defence, reward the daunger of the wound ; 
But being hurt, seek to be medicin'd 
Of her that first did stir that mortal stownd. 

$3eaUt£.— Byron. 
Heart on her Lips, and Soul within her Eyes. 
Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies. 

13cautg. — ShaJcspeare. 
That whiter skin of her'a than snow, 
And smooth as monumental abibaster. 


igeatttg. — Spenser. 
T70R sure of all that in this mortal frame 

Contained is, nought more Divine doth seem, 
Or that resembleth more th' immortal flame 
Of heavenly light, than Beauty's glorious beam. 
What wonder then if with such rage extreme 
Frail men, whose eyes seek heavenly things to see, 
At sight thereof so much enravish'd be ? 

ISeautg. — Mrs. Tighe. 
OH! how refreshing seem'd the breathing wind 

To her faint limbs ! and while her snowy hands 
From her fair brow her golden hair unbind, 
And of her zone unloose the silken bands, 
More passing bright unveil'd her Beauty stands; 
For faultless was her Form as Beauty's Queen, 
And every winning grace that Love demands, 
With wild attemper'd dignity was seen 
Play o'er each lovely limb, and deck her angel mien. 

2SeaUt£. — Byron. 

QUCH was ! — such around her shone 

The nameless Charms unmark'd by her alone; 
The Light of Love, the Purity of Grace, 
The Mind, the Music breathing from her Face, 
The Heart whose softness harmonized the whole — 
And, oh ! that Eye was in itself a Soul ! 

ISeaUtg, — Shakspeare. 
Fair Ladies, mask'd, are Roses in their Bud : 
Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, 
Are Angels vailing Clouds, or Roses blown. 

^tmty. — Scott. 
^HERE was a soft and pensive Grace, 

A cast of thought upon her Face, 
That suited well the Forehead high, 
The Eye-lash dark, and downcast Eye : 
The mild Expression spoke a mind 
In duty firm, composed, resign'd. 

I&emty. — Spenser. 
Every Spirit as it is most pure, 
And hath in it the more of heavenly light, 
So it the fairer Body doth procure 

To habit in 

For of the Soul the Body form doth take, 
For Soul is form and doth the Body make- 


IStdUt)). — Byron. 
slHE was a Form of Life and Light, 
That, seen, became a part of sight , 
And rose, where'er I turn'd mine eye, 
The Morning-star of Memory ! 

ISeaUtp. — Shakspeare. 
My Beauty, though but mean, 
Needs not the painted nourish of your praise ; 
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, 
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues. 

tStatttg.— Moore. 

T^HILE she, who sang so gently to the lute 
Her dream of home, steals timidly away, 
Shrinking as violets do in summer's ray, 
But takes with her from Aziin's heart that sigh 
We sometimes give to forms that pass us by 
In the world's crowd, too lovely to remain, 
Creatures of light we never see again! 

ISeailtg.— Byron. 

TMJT Virtue's self, with all her tightest laces, 
Has not the natural stays of strict old age; 
And Socrates, that model of all duty, 

Own'd to a penchant, though discreet, for Beauty. 

i3eautp. — Shakspeare. 
CINCE brass nor stone, nor earth nor boundless sea, 

But sad Mortality o'er-sways their power, 
How with this rage shall Beauty hold a plea, 
Whose action is no stronger than a flower ? 
0, how shall Summer's honey breath hold out 
Against the wreckful siege of battering days, 
When rocks impregnable are not so stout, 
Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays ? 
fearful Meditation ! where, alack, 
Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? 
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back ? 
Or who his spoil of Beauty can forbid? 

13caUtj). — Shakspeare. 
,r FIS Beauty truly blent, whose red and white 

Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : 
Lady, you are the cruell'st She alive, 
If you will lead these graces to the grave, 
And leave the world no copy. 


13 c autj). — Milton. 

He on his side 
Leaning half rais'd, with looks of cordial love 
Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld 
Beauty, which whether waking or asleep, 
Shot forth peculiar graces. 

UeaUtg, — Moore. 
"PV'N then, her Presence had the power 

To soothe, to warm, — nay, ev'n to bless — 
If ever bliss could graft its flower 
On stem so full of bitterness — 
Ev'n then her glorious Smile to me 

Brought warmth and radiance, if not balm, 
Like Moonlight on a troubled sea, 

Brightening the storm it cannot calm. 

SBeautg-— Pope. 

"VET graceful Ease, and Sweetness void of Pride, 

Might hide her faults, if Belles had faults to hide 
If to her share some female errors fall, 
Look on her Face, and you'll forget 'em all. 

SSeailtg. — Shakspeare. 
I SAW sweet Beauty in her Face, 
Such as the daughter of Agenor had, 
That made great Jove to humble him to her hand, 
When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. 

. I saw her coral Lips to move, 
And with her Breath she did perfume the air : 
Sacred and sweet, was all I saw in her. 
UeaUtg. — Ben Jonson. 
(^JJVE me a Look, give me a Face, 
That makes Simplicity a Grace ; 
Bobes loosely flowing, Hair as free ! 
Such sweet neglect more taketh me, 
Than all the adulteries of art ; 
That strike mine eyes, but not my heart. 
Iteutg.— Rome. 
From every blush that kindles in thy Cheeks, 
Ten thousand little Loves and Graces spring 
To revel in the Boses. 

25eaUtj). — Shahspeare. 
()H, She doth teach the torches to burn bright! 
Her Beauty hangs upon the cheek of Night 
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear: 
Beauty too rich for use, for Earth too dear. 


ISeatttg. — Shakspeare, 
Move these eyes ? 
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
Seem they in motion ? Here are sever'd Lips, 
Parted with sugar breath ; so sweet a bar 
Should sunder such sweet friends : Here in her Hairs 
The painter plays the spider; and hath woven 
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, 
Faster than gnats in cobwebs : but her Eyes, — 
How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
Methinks it should have power to steal both his, 
And leave itself unfinish'd. 

13eaUtg, — Joanna Baillie. 
'TO make the cunning artless, tame the rude, 

Subdue the haughty, shake th' undaunted soul ; 
Yea, put a bridle in the lion's mouth, 
And lead him forth as a domestic cur, 
These are the triumphs of all-powerful Beauty ! 

ISeailtp. — Shakspeare. 
TTER Stature, as wand-like straight, 

As silver-voiced ; her Eyes as Jewel-like, 
And cased as richly; in pace another Juno ; 
Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry, 
The more she gives them speech. 

ISeautp. — Shakspeare. 
JJEAUTY is but a vain and doubtful Good, 

A shining Glass, that fadeth suddenly ; 
A flower that dies, when first it 'gins to bud; 
A brittle glass, that's broken presently ; 
A doubtful Good, a Gloss, a Glass, a flower, 
Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour. 

And as Good lost, is seld or never found, 
As fading Gloss no rubbing will refresh, 
As flowers dead, lie wither'd on the ground, 
As broken Glass no Cement can redress, 
So Beauty blemish'd once, for ever's lost, 
In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost. 

ISeautj). — Joanna Baillie. 
TITITH Goddess-like demeanor forth she went, 

Not unattended, for on her as Queen 
A pomp of winning Graces waited still, 
And from about her shot darts of desire 
Into all eyes to wish her still in sight. 


ISeatttg.— Addison. 

,r TIS not a set of Features, or Complexion, 

The tincture of a Skin, that I admire : 
Beauty soon grows familiar to the Lover, 
Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. 

ISeaUtg. — Thomson. 
Her form was fresher than the morning Rose, 
When the dew wets its leaves ; unstain'd and pure, 
As is the Lily, or the mountain Snow. 

ISeaUf g. — Shakspeare. 
TTER lily Hand her rosy Cheek lies under, 

Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss : 
Without the bed her other fair Hand was, 
On the green coverlet : whose perfect white 
Show'd like an April daisy on the grass, 
With pearly sweat, resembling dew of Night. 
Her Eyes, like marigolds, had sheathed their light ; 
And, canopied in darkness, sweetly lay, 
Till they might open to adorn the day. 

ISeaUtg.— Thomson. 

A native Grace 
Sat fair-proportion'd on her polish'd Limbs, 
VeiPd in a simple robe, their best attire, 
Beyond the pomp of dress: for Loveliness 
Needs not the foreign aid of Ornament, 
But is when unadorn'd adorn' d the most. 

33eaUtg* — Shakspeare. 

She looks as clear 
As morning Roses newly wash'd with Dew. 

l^CaUtg. — Joanna Baillie. 

When I approach 
Her Loveliness, so absolute she seems 
And in herself complete, so well to know 
Her own, that what she wills to do or say, 
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best; ' 
All higher knowledge in her Presence falls 
Degraded, Wisdom in discourse with her 
Lose discount'nanc'd, and like Folly shows. 

33caUtj>. — Young. 
What tender force, what dignity divine, 
What virtue consecrating every Feature ; 
Around that Neck what dross are gold and pearl ! 


13eaUtg.— Blair. 
TJEAUTY ! thou pretty plaything ! dear deceit ! 
That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart, 
And gives it a new pulse unknown before. 
The grave discredits thee : thy Charms expunged, 
Thy Roses faded, and thy Lilies soil'd, 
What hast thou more to boast of? Will thy lovers 
Flock round thee now, to gaze and do thee homage ? 
Methinks I see thee with thy Head laid low ; 
Whilst surfeited upon thy damask Cheek, 
The high-fed worm, in lazy volumes roll'd, 
Riots unscar'd. For this was all thy caution ? 
For this thy painful labours at thy glass, 
T' improve those Charms, and keep them in repair, 
For which the spoiler thanks thee not ? Foul feeder ! 
Coarse fare and carrion please thee full as well, 
And leave as keen a relish on the sense. 

!3eaUtg.— Jeffrey. 

That transitory Flower : e'en while it lasts 
Palls on the roving sense, when held too near, 
Or dwelling there too long : by fits it pleases ; 
And smells at distance best : its sweets, familiar 
By frequent converse, soon grow dull and cloy you. 

ISeautp, — Moore. 
f)H, what a pure and sacred thing 

Is Beauty, curtain'd from the sight 
Of the gross World, illumining 

One only mansion with her light : 
Unseen by Man's disturbing eye — 

The Flower, that blooms beneath the Sea 
Too deep for sun-beams, doth not lie 
Hid in more chaste obscurity ! 

33caUtj), — Lansdowne. 
She seizes hearts, not waiting for consent, 
Like sudden death, that snatches unprepared ; 
Like fire from Heav'n, scarce seen so soon as felt. 

iSeaittg. — Otway. 
A NGELS were painted fair to look like you : 

There's in you all that we believe of Heav'n — 
Amazing Brightness, Purity, and Truth, 
Eternal Joy, and everlasting Peace. 


^tauty. — Roive. 
The Bloom of op'ning Flowers, unsullied Beauty, 
Softness, and sweetest Innocence she wears, 
ALd looks like Nature in the World's first Spring. 

IkaUtg* — Southern. 
how I grudge the grave this heav'nly Form ! 
Thy Beauties will inspire the arms of Death, 
And warm the pale cold tyrant into life. 

ISeailtj)- — Roioe. 
Is she not more than painting can express, 
Or youthful Poets fancy, when they love. 

ISeaUtg. — Patterson. 
fatal Beauty ! why art thou bestow'd 
On hapless Woman still to make her wretched ! 
Betray'd by thee, how many are undone ! 

33eaUtg. — Lee. 
A lavish planet reign'd when she was born, 
And made her of such kindred mould to Heav'n, 
She seems more Heav'n's than ours. 

15caUtg. — Dry den. 
QNE who would change the worship of all climates, 

And make a new Religion where'er she comes, 
Unite the differing faiths of all the World, 
To idolize her Face. 

ISeaUtg.— From the French. 
Beauty, unaccompanied by Virtue, is as a Flower without Perfume. 

Ueatltg. — St. Pierre. 
T^VERY trait of Beauty may be referred to some virtue, as to In- 
nocence, Candour, Generosity, Modesty, and Heroism. 

13eaUtg. — From the Italian. 
gOCRATES called Beauty a short-lived Tyranny; Plato, a Pri- 
vilege of Nature; Theophrastus, a silent Cheat; Theocritus, a 
delightful Prejudice; Carneades, a solitary Kingdom ; Domitian 
said, that nothing was more grateful ; Aristotle affirmed that 
Beauty was better than all the letters of recommendation in the 
World; Homer, that 'twas a glorious gift of Nature; and Ovid, 
alluding to him, calls it a favour bestowed by the Gods. 

3SeaUtp, — Lord Greville. 
THHE Criterion of true Beauty is, that it increases on examination , 
of false, that it lessens. There is something, therefore, in true 
Beauty that corresponds with right reason, and is not merely the 
creature of Fancy. 


\TARK her majestic Fabrick ; she's a Temple 

Sacred by birth, and built by hands Divine : 
Her Soul's the Deity that lodges there; 
Nor is the Pile unworthy of the God. 

^fatltj). — Anonymous. 
TJEAUTY is spread abroad through earth and sea and sky, and 
dwells on the face and form, and in the heart of Man; and he 
will shrink from the thought of its being a thing which he, or any 
one else, could monopolize. He will deem that the highest and 
most blessed privilege of his genius is, that it enables him to che- 
rish the widest and fullest sympathy with the hearts and thoughts 
of his brethren. 

ISeaUtJ). — Dryden. 
Her Eyes, her Lips, her Cheeks, her Shapes, her Features, 
Seem to be drawn by Love's own hand; by Love 
Himself in love. 

ISeailtjf). — Lee. 

she is all Perfections ! 
All that the blooming Earth can send forth fair; 
All that the gaudy Heavens could drop down glorious. 

13eaUtP.— Otway. 
Oh ! she has Beauty might ensnare 
A Conqueror's soul, and make him leave his crown 
At random, to be scuffled for by slaves. 

13eaut2. — Colton. 
T'Hx'VT is not the most perfect Beauty, which, in public, would 
attract the greatest observation ; nor even that which the 
Statuary would admit to be a faultless piece of clay, kneaded up 
with blood. But that is true Beauty, which has not only a Sub- 
stance, but a Spirit, — a Beauty that we must intimately know, 
justly to appreciate, — a Beauty lighted up in conversation, where 
the Mind shines as it were through its casket, where, in the lan- 
guage of the Poet, " the eloquent blood spoke in her Cheeks, and 
so distinctly wrought, that we might almost say her Body thought." 
An order and a mode of Beauty which, the more we know, the more 
we accuse ourselves for not having before discovered those thousand 
Graces which bespeak that their owner has a Soul. This is that 
Beauty which never cloys, possessing Charms as resistless as those 
of the fascinating Egyptian, for which Antony wisely paid the bau 
ble of a World, — a Beauty like the rising of his own Italian Suns, 
always enchanting, never the same. 


33eaUt}J. — Clarendon. 
TT was a very proper answer to him who asked, why any man 
should be delighted with Beauty ? that it was a question that 
none but a blind man could ask ; since any beautiful object doth 
so much attract the sight of all men, that it is in no man's power 
not to be pleased with it. 

SSeailtg. — Steele. 
TO give pain is the tyranny, to make happy the true empire, of 


IBeaUtg. — Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
"REAUTY is the mark God sets on virtue. Every natural action is 
graceful. Every heroic act is also decent, and causes the place 
and the bystanders to shine. When a noble act is done — perchance 
in a scene of great natural beauty; wheu Leonidas and his three 
hundred martyrs consume one day in dying, and the sun and moon 
come each and look at them once in the steep defile of Thermopylae 
when Arnold Winkelried, in the high Alps, under the shadow of 
the avalanche, gathers in his side a sheaf of Austrian spears to 
break the line for his comrades; are not these heroes entitled to 
add the beauty of the scene to the beauty of the deed? 

SSeautg of Nature.— DwigU. 

"THE beauty and splendour of the objects around us, it is ever to 
be remarked, are not necessary to their existence, nor to what 
we commonly intend their usefulness. It is therefore to be regarded 
as a source of pleasure gratuitously superinduced upon the general 
nature of the objects themselves, and in this light as a testimony 
of the Divine Goodness peculiarly affecting. 

becoming OUr OlMt jfttoter.— Anonymous. 
"pVERYBODY is impatient for the time when he shall be his 
own Master; and if coming of Age were to make one so, if 
Years could indeed "bring the philosophic Mind/' it would rightly 
be a day of rejoicing to a whole household and neighbourhood. 
But too often he who is impatient to become his own Master, 
when the outward checks are removed, merely becomes his own 

^etjabtOUr.— La Bmyere. 
A COLDNESS or an Incivility manifested towards us by a 
Superior, makes us hate him ; but no sooner does he con- 
descend to honour us with a Salute or a Smile, than we forget 
th<" former Indignity, and become perfectly reconciled to him. 


ISnng Elone.— Byron. 

To view alone 
The fairest scenes of land and deep, 
With None to listen and reply 
To thoughts with which my heart beat high, 
Were irksome. 

Wqz tillage i3elte. — Cowper. 

JJOW soft the Music of those Village Bells. 

Falling at intervals upon the Ear 
In Cadence sweet ! now dying all away, 
Now pealing loud again and louder still, 
Clear and sonorous as the gale comes on. 
With easy force it opens all the cells 
Where Mem'ry slept. 

33enebolcnce. — Shakspeare. 

'Tis pity, Bounty had not eyes behind; 

That Man might ne'er be wretched for his Mind. 

UenebulettCe. — Mackenzie. 
'THERE is no use of money equal to that of Beneficence ; here 
the enjoyment grows on reflection. 

ISenebolence. — Coiton. 

'THERE is nothing that requires so strict an Economy as our 
Benevolence. We should husband our Means as the Agricul- 
turist his manure, which if he spread over too large a superficies 
produces no crop, if over too small a surface, exuberates in rank- 
ness and in weeds. 

Benebolcnce.— Kant. 

TJENEFICENCE is a duty. He who frequently practises it, and 
sees his benevolent intentions realized, at length comes really 
to love him to whom he has done Good. When, therefore, it is 
said, " Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself," it is not meant, 
thou shalt love him first, and do him Good in consequence of that 
Love, but, thou shalt do Good to thy neighbour; and this thy 
Beneficence will engender in thee that Love to Mankind which is 
the fulness and consummation of the Inclination to do Good. 

13cnebolence. — Cicero. 

"VTEN resemble the gods in nothing so much as in doing Good 
to their fellow-creatures. 

H3etteb0lence.— From the French. 
THE Conqueror is regarded with awe, the wise Man commands 
our esteem; but it is the benevolent Man who wins our af- 




'THE disposition to give a cup of cold water to a disciple is a 
far nobler property than the finest intellect. Satan has a fine 
intellect, but not the image of God. 

ISenebolenee. — Seneca. 

There will ever be a place for Virtue. 
ISenebolCttX*. — Shakspeare. 

For his Bounty, 
There was no Winter in't; an Autumn 'twas, 
That grew the more by reaping. 

23eu1tftfermettt. — Shakspeare. 
'THERE was Speech in their Dumbness, Language in their very 
Gesture ; they looked, as they had heard of a World ransomed, 
or one destroyed : a notable passion of Wonder appeared in them ; 
but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not 
say, if the importance were Joy, or Sorrow; but in the extremity 
of the one it must needs be. 

Cf)e l&ifiU.— Wayland. 
T'HAT the truths of the Bible have the power of awakening an 
intense moral feeling in Man under every variety of character, 
learned, or ignorant, civilized or savage; that they make bad men 
good, and send a pulse of healthful feeling through all the domestic, 
civil, and social relations; that they teach men to love right, to 
hate wrong, and to seek each other's welfare, as the children of one 
common Parent; that they control the baleful passions of the human 
heart, and thus make men proficient in the science of self-govern- 
ment; and, finally, that they teach him to aspire after a conformity 
to a Being of infinite holiness, and fill him with hopes infinitely 
more purifying, more exalted, more suited to his nature, than any 
other which this world has ever known, are facts as incontrovertible 
as the laws of philosophy, or the demonstrations of mathematics. 
IStgOttg.— Drydm. 
The good old Man, too eager in Dispute, 
Flew high; and as his Christian Fury rose, 
Damn'd all for Heretics who durst oppose. 
HWpttg. — Feltham. 
QHOW me the Man who would go to Heaven alone if he could, 
and in that Man I will show you one who will never be ad« 
mitted into Heaven. 

iStflOttg*— Prior. 
QOON their crude Notions with each other fought; 

The adverse Sect denied what this had taught; 
And he at length the ampliest triumph gain'd, 
Who contradicted what the last maintained. 


13t0grapf)9. — Terence. 
"VTY advice is, to consult the Lives of other Men, as he would a look- 
ing-glass, and from thence fetch examples for his own imitation. 

CJje Uobe Of lo\XiS%. — Thomson. 
,r TIS Love creates their Melody, and all 

This waste of Music is the Voice of Love ; 
That even to Birds, and Beasts, the tender arts 
Of pleasing teaches. Hence the glossy kind 
Try every winning way inventive Love 
Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates 
Pour forth their little souls. 

Mtfy. — Charron. 
r rHOSE who have nothing else to recommend them to the respect 
of others, but only their Blood, cry it up at a great rate, and 
have their mouths perpetually full of it. They swell and vapour, 
and you are sure to hear of their families and relations every third 
word. By this mark they commonly distinguish themselves; you 
may depend upon it there is no good bottom, nothing of true worth 
of their own when they insist so much, and set their credit upon 
that of others. 

Uirtf). — Lord Greville. 
TyHEN real Nobleness accompanies that imaginary one of Birth, 
the imaginary seems to mix with real, and becomes real too. 

Cf)e 13tttf)to. — Young. 

Alas ! this Day 
First gave me Birth, and (which is strange to tell) 
The Fates e'er since, as watching its return, 
Have caught it as it flew, and mark'd it deep 
With something great; extremes of good or ill. 

ISUxfimzm.— Milton. 

Thus with the year 
Seasons return, but not to me returns 
Day, or the sweet approach of Ev'n or Morn, 
Or sight of vernal Bloom, or summer's Rose, 
Or Flocks, or Herds, or human Face divine; 
But Cloud instead, and ever-during Dark, 
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of Men 
Cut off, and for the Book of Knowledge fair 
Presented with a universal Blank 
Of Nature's Works, to me expung'd and ras'd, 
And Wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. 


^BUn^ntsz.— Milton. 

r\ DARK, dark, dark, amid the blaze of Noon, 

Irrevocably dark, total Eclipse 
Without all hope of Day ! 

first created Beam, and thou great Word, 
Let there be Light, and Light was over all; 

*Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree? 

WlOfiti. — Shakspeare. 
HiGH-stomach'.d are they both, and full of Ire, 
In rage deaf as the Sea, hasty as Fire. 

3Slimtne!S0. — Shakspeare. 
1TE speaks home; you may relish him more in the Soldier, than 
in the Scholar. 

iSlUSfjhtg* — Spenser. 
HPHE doubtful Mayd, seeing herself descryde, 

Was all abasht, and her pure Yvory 
Into a clear Carnation suddeine dyde; 
As fayre Aurora rysing hastily 
Doth by her Blushing tell that she did lye 
All night in old Tithonus' frozen bed, 
Whereof she seemes ashamed inwardly. 

!3lUSf)^0» — Scott. 
With every change his Features play'd, 
As Aspens show the Light and Shade. 

Coasting.— Young. 
We rise in Glory, as we sink in Pride ; 
Where Boasting ends, there Dignity begins. 

13ua!3tmg. — Shakspeare. 
Conceit, more rich in Matter than in Words, 
Brags of his Substance, not of Ornament: 
They are but Beggars that can count their Worth. 

13oaiStmg. — Shakspeare. 

I'll turn two mincing steps 
Into a manly stride : and speak of Frays 
Like a fine bragging Youth : and tell quaint Lies, 
How honourable Ladies sought my Love, 
Which I denying they fell sick and died : 

1 could not do with all: — then I will repent, 
And wish for all that, that I had not kill'd them : 
And twenty of these puny Lies I'll tell, 

That Men shall swear, I have discontinued school 
Above a twelvemonth. 


ISoaStmg. — Shakspeare. 

Who knows himself a Braggart, 
Let him fear this; for it will come to pass, 
That every Braggart shall be found an Ass. 

3300fe'iHakmg. — Edward H. Everett. 
TT is remarkable that many of the best Books of all sorts have 
been written by persons who, at the time of writing them, had 
no intention of becoming authors. Indeed, with slight inclination 
to systemize and exaggerate, one might be almost tempted to main- 
tain the position — however paradoxical it may at the first blush 
appear — that no good Book can be written in any other way; that 
the only literature of any value is that which grows indirectly out 
of the real action of society, intended directly to affect some other 
purpose; and that when a man sits doggedly in his study and 
says to himself "I mean to write a good Book" it is certain, from 
the necessity of the case, that the result will be a bad one. 

iftaQtte,— FuUer. 

T'HOU mayst as well expect to grow stronger by always eating as 
wiser by always reading. Too much overcharges Nature, and 
turns more into disease than nourishment. 'Tis thought and diges- 
tion which makes Books serviceable, and gives health and vigour to 
the mind. 

Uoofc0.— Fuller. 

T'O divert at any time a troublesome fancy, run to thy Books : 
they presently fix thee to them, and drive the other out of thy 
thoughts. They always receive thee with the same kindness. 

15 o fcS . — Tom Brown. 
"PLAYS and Romances sell as well as Books of Devotion; but 
with this difference ; more people read the former than buy 
them ; and more buy the latter than read them. 

iUOOftj*.— Anon. 

T HAVE ever gained the- most profit, and the most pleasure also, 
from the Books which have made me think the most; and, wheu 
the difficulties have once been overcome, these are the Books 
which have struck the deepest root, not only in my memory and 
understanding, but likewise in my affections. 

^OOftJS.— Hare. 

"HOOKS, as Dryden has aptly termed them, are spectacles to read 
Nature. Eschylus and Aristotle, Shakspeare and Bacon, are 
Priests who preach and expound the mysteries of Man and the 
Universe. They teach us to understand and feel what we see, to 
decipher and syllable the hieroglyphics of the senses. 


1300kS Joiner tana. 

Books, like Friends, should be few and well chosen. 

|8O0fcj5. — Milton. 

AS good almost kill a Man as kill a good Book. Many a man 
lives a burden to the Earth ; but a good Book is the precious 
Life-blood of a Master-spirit, embalmed and treasured up on pur- 
pose, to a life beyond life. 

BOOKS. — Clarendon. 
fTE who loves not Books before he comes to thirty years of age, 
will hardly love them enough afterward to understand them. 

13OOK0. — Colton. 
"\TANY Books require no thought from those who read them, and 
for a very simple reason ; — they made no such demand upon 
those who wrote them. Those Works, therefore, are the most valu- 
able, that set our thinking faculties in the fullest operation. For 
as the solar light calls forth all the latent powers and dormant 
principles of vegetation contained in the kernel, but which, without 
such a stimulus, would neither have struck root downward, nor 
borne fruit upward, so it is with the light that is intellectual; it 
calls forth and awakens into energy those latent principles of 
thought in the minds of others, which, without this stimulus, reflec- 
tion would not have matured, nor examination improved, nor action 

BOOKS. — Shenstone. 
*Y\7TIEN self-interest inclines a man to print, he should consider 
that the purchaser expects a penny-worth for his penny, and 
has reason to asperse his honesty if he finds himself deceived; also, 
that it is possible to publish a Book of no value, which is too fre- 
quently the product of such mercenary people. 

BOOKS. — Channing. 
CtOVf be thanked for Books. They are the voices of the distant 
and the dead, and make us heirs of the spiritual life of past 
ages. Books are the true levellers. They give to all, who will 
faithfully use them, the society, the spiritual presence of the best 
and greatest of our race. No matter how poor I am. No matter 
though the prosperous of my own time will not enter my obscure 
dwelling. If the sacred writers will enter and take up their abode 
under my roof, if Milton will cross my threshold to sing to me of 
Paradise, and Shakspeare to open to me the worlds of imagination 
and the workings of the human heart, and Franklin to enrich me 
with his practical wisdom, I shall not pine for want of intellectual 
companionship, and I may become a cultivated man though ex- 
cluded from what is called the best society in the place where I live. 


BfJCfe — Lord Grecille. 
HTHE man who only relates what he has heard or read, or talks of 
sensible men and sensible Books in general terms, or of cele- 
brated passages in celebrated Authors, may talk about sense ; but 
he alone, who speaks the sentiments that arise from the force of 
his own mind employed upon the subjects before him, can talk 

ISfJfjItS. — Longfellow. 
A ["ANT readers judge of the power of a Book by the shock it gives 
their feelings — as some savage tribes determine the power of 
muskets by their recoil; that being considered best which fairly 
prostrates the purchaser. 

330CrclMTtg. — Shakspeare. 
Neither a Borrower, nor a Lender be : 
For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 

WtyZ 130ttle.— Johnson. 
TN the Bottle discontent seeks for comfort, cowardice for courage, 
and bashfulness for confidence. 

Cf)e Braggart. — Shakspeare. 

Here's a Stay, 
That shakes the rotten carcase of old Death 
Out of his rags ! Here's a large Mouth, indeed, 
That spits forth Death, and Mountains, Hocks and Seas; 
Talk as familiarly of roaring Lions, 
As Maids of thirteen do of Puppy -Dogs ! 
What Cannoneer begot this lusty Blood ? 
He speaks plain Cannon, Fire, and Smoke, and Bounce ; 
He gives the Bastinado with his Tongue; 
Our ears are cudgel'd. 

$3rtUtanCg. — Longfellow. 
Yl r ITH many readers Brilliancy of style passes for affluence of 
thought; they mistake buttercups in the grass for immensura- 
ble gold mines under the ground. 

ButOung.— Kett. 

"VKVER build after you are five-and-forty ; have five years income 
in hand before you lay a Brick, and always calculate the expense 
at double the estimate. 

13u0ine0S. — Saville. 
A MAN who cannot mind his own Business, is not to be trusted 
with the King's. 


^UStneiSS* — Steele. 
r F0 men addicted to delights, Business is an interruption ; to 
such as are cold to delights, Business is an entertainment. 
For which reason it was said to one who commended a dull man 
for his Application, " No thanks to him; if he had no Business, 
he would have nothing to do." 

$3 US tit eSS. — Shakspeare. 
To Business that we love, we rise betime, 
And go to it with delight. 

Justness* — Swift, 

"VfEN of great parts are often unfortunate in the management 
of public Business, because they are apt to go out of the 
common road by the quickness of their imagination. 

$3ugtng* — Franklin. 
RUY what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy 

(ftallmg. — Shakspeare. 
Virtue's office never breaks men's troth. 

(Mitt. — Moore. 
. TTOW calm, how beautiful comes on 

The stilly Hour, when Storms are gone ; 
When warring Winds have died away, 
And Clouds, beneath the glancing ray, 
Melt off, and leave the Land and Sea 
Sleeping in bright Tranquillity, — 
When the blue Waters rise and fall, 
In sleepy Sunshine mantling all ; 
And ev'n that Swell the Tempest leaves, 
Is like the full and silent heaves 
Of Lovers' Hearts, when newly blest, 
Too newly to be quite at rest ! 

(2* aim. — Moore. 
"'TWAS one of those ambrosial eves 

A day of storm so often leaves 
At its calm setting — when the West 
Opens her golden Bowers of Rest, 
And a moist radiance from the skies 
Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes 
Of some meek penitent, whose last 
Bright hours atone for dark ones past, 
And whose sweet tears, o'er wrong forgiven, 
Shine, as they fall with light from Heaven ! 


(Mumng. — Shakspeare. 
DE thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape 

(tfantlOUr. — Shakspeare. 

I hold it cowardice, 
To rest mistrustful where a noble Heart 
Hath pawn'd an open Hand in sign of Love. 
(Eant— Burns. 
T EARN three-mile Pray'rs, an' half-mile Graces, 

Wi' weel-spread Looves, an' lang wrv Faces; 
Grunt up a solemn, lengthened Groan, 
And damn a* parties but your own ; 
I'll warrant then, ye're nae Deceiver, 
A steady, sturdy, staunch Believer. 

(Kaitt. — Sliakspearc. 
'Tis too much proved, — that, with Devotion's Visage, 
And pious Action, we do sugar o'er 
The Devil himself. 

<&a$tiQVl8nt$B.— ChesterfeM. 
A VULGAR Man is captious and jealous ; eager and impetuous 
about trifles. He suspects himself to be slighted, and thinks 
every thing that is said meant at him. 

(B*clt£. — Shakspeare. 
QARE keeps his Watch in every old Man's eye, 
And where Care lodges, Sleep will never lie ; 
But where unbruised Youth with unstufF'd brain 
Doth couch his limbs, there golden Sleep doth reign. 

(KatC. — Spenser. 
TJUDE was his garment, and to rags all rent, 

Ne better had he, ne for better car'd ; 
With blistred hands emongst the cinders brent, 
And fingers filthie, with long nayles unpar'd, 
Right fit to rend the food on which he far'd : 
His name was Care ; a blacksmith by his trade, 
That neither day nor night from working spar'd, 
But to small purpose yron wedges made : 
Those be unquiet thoughts that careful Minds invade 

(KtW0. — Shakspeare. 
Q POLISH'D Perturbation ! golden Care ! 

That keep'st the ports of Slumber open wide 
To many a watchful night ! — he sleeps with 't now, 
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, 
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin bound, 
Snores out the watch of Night. 

B u t 

G ] 


date* — Burns. 

human bodies are sic fools, 
For a' their colleges and schools, 
That when nae real ills perplex them, 
They mak enow themscls to vex them. 

(toe* — Shakspeare. 
Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, 
For things that are not to be remedied. 

Ittnglg (ftareS, — Shakspeare. 
IVES not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, 
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy 
To Kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? 
0, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. 

The shepherd's homely curds, 
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, 
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, 
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, 
Is far beyond a Prince's delicates, 
His viands sparkling in a golden cup, 
His body couched in a curious bed, 
When Care, Mistrust, and Treason, wait on him. 

(ftause of all (Causes. — shakspeare. 

TTE that of greatest works is Finisher 

Oft does them by the weakest minister : 
So Holy Writ in babes hath judgment shown, 
When judges have been babes. Great floods have flown 
From simple sources ; and great seas have dried, 
When miracles have by the greatest been denied. 
Oft Expectation fails, and most oft there 
Where most it promises; and oft it hits, 
Where Hope is coldest, and Despair most sits. 
It is not so with Him that all things knows, 
As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows : 
But most it is presumptuous in us, when 
The help of Heaven we count the act of Men. 

(£aU00 atttl IBfoCt. — Shakspeare. 
"JV-TAD let us grant him then ; and now remains, 

That we find out the Cause of this Effect; 
Or, rather say, the Cause of this Defect ; 
For this Effect, defective, comes by Cause. 

(&a\lti(m.—PubUus Syrius. 
It is a good thing to learn Caution by the misfortunes of others. 


(SmtiOtt. — Shakspeare. 

Things, done well, 
And with a Care, exempt themselves from fear : 
Things, done without Example, in their issue 
Are to be fear'd. 

©eiesttart streets — Cicero. 

f PERCEIVE you contemplate the seat and habitation of men ; 
which, if it appears as little to you as it really is, fix you eyes 
perpetually upon heavenly Objects, and despise earthly. 


TVTE ought in humanity no more to despise a man for the misfor- 
tunes of the mind than for those of the body, when they arc 
such as he cannot help. 

(KenSUre. — La Rochefoucauld. 
"pEW persons have sufficient wisdom to prefer Censure which is 
useful to them, to Praise which deceives them. 

©ensure. — Young. 
TTORACE appears in good humour while he censures, and there- 
fore his Censure has the more weight, as supposed to proceed 
from Judgment, not from Passion. 

(Ceremony. — Shakspeare. 
"Was devised at first to set a gloss 
On faint deeds, hollow welcomes, 
But where there is true friendship, there needs none. 

©eremonj}.— Rare. 

"pORMS and Regularity of Proceeding, if they are not justice, par- 
take much of the nature of justice, which, in its highest sense, 
is the spirit of distributive Order. 

(Eextmnxu). — SeMen. 

(CEREMONY keeps up things ; 'tis like a penny glass to a rich 
spirit, or some excellent water; without it the water were spilt, 
and the spirit lost. 

©erememp.— Steele. 

A S Ceremony is the invention of wise men to keep fools at a dis- 
tance, so Good-breeding is an expedient to make fools and wise- 
men equals. 

©eremOUP. — Shakspeare. 
f\ HARD condition, and twin-born with greatness, 

Subject to breath of ev'ry fool, whose sense 
No more can feel but his own wringing. 
What infinite heart-ease must Kings neglect, 


That private Men enjoy? and what have Kings, 
That Privates have not too, save Ceremony? 

Save geu'ral Ceremony? 

And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony? 

"What kind of God art thou? that suffer'st more 

Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers. 

What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in? 

O Ceremony, show me but thy worth : 

What is thy toll, Adoration? 

Art thou aught else but Place, Degree and Form, 

Creating awe and fear in other men? 

"Wherein thou art less happy, being fear'd, 

Than they in fearing. 

What drink'st thou oft, instead of Homage sweet, 

But poison'd Flatt'ry? be sick, great Greatness, 

And bid thy Ceremony give thee cure. 

Think'st thou, the fiery fever will go out 

With Titles blown from Adulation ? 

Will it give place to flexure and low bending? 

Can'st thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee, 

Command the health of it? no, thou proud dream, 

That pkiyst so subtly with a King's repose. 

(£eXtmfm$. — Chesterfield. 
A LL Ceremonies are in themselves very silly things: but yet a 
man of the world should know them. They are the outworks 
of manners and decency, which would be too often broken in upon, 
if it were not for that defence, which keeps the enemy at a proper 
distance. It is for that reason that I always treat fools and cox- 
combs with great Ceremony; true Good-breeding not being a suffi- 
cient barrier against them. 

(EfjattCe. — La Rochefoucauld. 
r rHE generality of men have, like plants, latent properties, which 
Chance brings to light. 

<£JjattCe. — Terence. 
T-TOW often events, by Chance, and unexpectedly come to pass, 
which you had not dared even to hope for ! 

i&fjattge*— Johnson. 

QUCH are the vicissitudes of the World, through all its parts, 
that day and night, labour and rest, hurry and retirement, en- 
dear each other: such are the Changes that keep the mind in 
action: we desire, we pursue, we obtain, we are satiated; we de- 
sire something else, and begin a new pursuit. 


<fti)a00. — Shakspeaxe. 

Let Order die, 
And let this World no longer be a stage, 
To feed contention in a lingering act; 
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain 
Reign in all bosoms, that each heart being set 
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, 
And Darkness be the burier of the Dead ! 

Character. — Shakspeare. 
I-IlS real Habitude gave life and grace 
To appertainings and to ornament, 
Accomplish'd in himself, not in his case : 
All aids themselves made fairer by their place; 
Came for additions, yet their purpos'd trim 
Piec'd not his grace, but were all grae'd by him. 
So on the tip of his subduing tongue 
All kinds of arguments and question deep, 
All replication prompt, and reason strong, 
For his advantage still did wake and sleep : 
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep, 
He had the dialect and different skill, 
Catching all passions in his craft of will; 
That he did in the general bosom reign 
Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanted. 

(EijcUaCter. — Sir William Temple. 
r THE best rules to form a young Man are, to talk little, to hear 
much, to reflect alone upon what has passed in company, to dis- 
trust one's own opinions, and value others that deserve it. 


ORDINARY people regard a man of a certain force and inflexi- 
bility of Character as they do a lion. They look at him with 
a sort of wonder — perhaps they admire him; but they will on no 
account house with him. The lap-dog, who wags his tail and licks 
the hand, and cringes at the nod of every stranger, is a much more 
acceptable companion to them. 

Character. — Chesterfield. 
TyHEN upon a trial a man calls witnesses to his Character, and 
those witnesses only say, that they never heard, nor do not 
know any thing ill of him, it intimates at best a neutral and in- 
significant Character. 

Character. — Lavater. 
A CTIONS, looks, words, steps, form the alphabet by which you 
may spell Characters. 




([tfjatatUX. — Fitzosbome. 
^ r EliE I to make trial of an j person's qualifications for an union 
of so much delicacy, there is no part of his conduct I would 
sooner single out, than to observe him in his resentments. And this 
not upon the maxim frequently advanced, " that the best friends 
make the bitterest enemies;" but on the contrary, because I am 
persuaded that he who is capable of being a bitter enemy, can 
never possess the necessary virtues that constitute a true friend. 

(EfjaraCter. — Shakspeare. 
He sits 'rnongst men, like a descended God : 
He hath a kind of honour sets him off, 
More than a mortal seeming. 

Character. — Shakspeare. 
HPHERE are a sort of men, whose visages 

Do cream and mantle like a standing pond ; 
And do a wilful stillness entertain, 
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ; 
As who should say, " I am Sir Oracle, 
And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark !" 

I do know of these, 
That therefore only are reputed wise, 
For saying nothing; who, I am very sure, 
If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, 
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. 

(CJjataCtet. — Shakspeare. 
Thou art full of love and honesty, 
And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath, — 
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more : 
For such things, in a false, disloyal knave, 
Are tricks of custom; but, in a man that's just, 
They are close denotements working from the heart, 
That passion cannot rule. 

<&f)ara.Ctet. — Shakspeare. 
1 WILL no more trust him when he leers, than I will a ser- 
pent when he hisses: he will spend his mouth, and promise, 
like Brabler the hound : but when he performs, astronomers fore- 
tell it: it is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun 
borrows of the moon, when he keeps his word. 

<£\) atactet*. — Bruyere. 
T'HERE are peculiar ways in men, which discover what they are 
through the most subtle feints and closest disguises 


(Character. — Shakspeare. 
"^"ATURE hath fram'd strange fellows in her time : 

Some, that will evermore peep through their eyes, 
And laugh, like parrots, at a bagpiper; 
And other of such vinegar aspect, 
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, 
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 

&i&XatUX. — Skakspeare. 

0, he's as tedious 
As is a tir'd horse, a railing wife ; 
Worse than a smoky house : — I had rather live 
With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far, 
Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me, 
In any summer-house in Christendom. 

VOU may depend upon it that he is a good man whose intimate 
friends are all good. 

<&§UXMtttX.— Skakspeare. 

J>EPUTATIOX, reputation, reputation ! 0, I have lost my 
reputation ! I have lost the immortal part of myself; and 
what remains is bestial. 

JJEPUT ATION ;— oft got without merit, and lost without de- 

(Character. — Socrates. 
THE way to gain a good Reputation is to endeavour to be what 
you desire to appear. 

Character, — Novaiis. 

Character is a perfectly educated will. 

<&f)ataCtet. —Shakspeare. 

This is he 
That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy; 
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, 
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice 
In honourable terms; nay, he can sing 
A mean most meanly ; and in ushering, 
Mend him who can; the ladies call him, sweet; 
The stairs as he treads on them kiss his feet. 

(Character. — Shakspeare. 
TE will steal himself into a man's favor, and, for a week, escape 
a ^rrcat deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, you 
nave him ever after. 


character. — coiton. 

'THE two most precious things this side the grave are our 
Reputation and our Life. But it is to be lamented that the 
most contemptible whisper may deprive us of the one, and the 
weakest weapon of the other. A wise man, therefore, will be 
more anxious to deserve a fair name than to possess it, and this 
will teach him so to live, as not to be afraid to die. 

(Character. — Shahspeare. 
'THIS fellow's wise enough to play the fool ; 
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit : 
He must observe their mood on whom he jests, 
The quality of persons and the time ; 
And, like the haggard, check at every feather 
That comes before his eye. This is a practice, 
As full of labour as a wise man's art; 
For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit ; 
But wise men, folly fallen, quite taint their wit. 

Character.— Fuller. 

rj-ET and preserve a good name, if it were but for the public 
service : for one of a deserved Reputation hath oftentimes an 
opportunity to do that good, which another cannot that wants it. 
And he may practise it with more security and success. 

(EjjataCter. — Shahspeare. 
HTHOU wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair 
less, in his beard than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a 
man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou 
hast hazel eyes ; what eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a 
quarrel ? Thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat. 

(Ejaracter. — Lavater. 

A VOID connecting yourself with Characters whose good and bad 
sides are unmixed, and have not fermented together ; they 
resemble vials of vinegar and oil ; or palettes set with colours ; they 
are either excellent at home and intolerable abroad, or insufferable 
within doors and excellent in public : they are unfit for friendship 
merely because their stamina, their ingredients of character are too 
single, too much apart; let them be finely ground up with each 
other, and they will be incomparable. 

(Eijatacttu— Coiton. 

T)UKE Chartres used to boast that no man could have less real 
value for Character than himself, yet he would gladly give 
twenty thousand pounds for a good one, because he could immedi- 
ately make double that sum by means of it. 


Character. — Addison. 
T>EOPLE of gloomy, uncheerful imaginations, or of envious, 
malignant tempers, whatever kind of life they are engaged in, 
will discover their natural tincture of mind in all their thoughts, 
words, and actions. As the finest wines have often the taste of the 
soil, so even the most religious thoughts often draw something 
that is particular from the constitution of the mind in which they 
arise. When folly or superstition strikes in with this natural de- 
pravity of temper, it is not in the power even of religion itself to 
preserve the Character of the person who is possessed with it from 
appearing highly absurd and ridiculous. 

<£f)atacter. — Shakspeare. 
HPHIS man hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions; 
he is as valiant as a lion, churlish as a bear, slow as the ele- 
phant : a man, into whom nature hath so crowded humours, that 
his valour is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion : 
there is no man hath a virtue, that he hath not a glimpse of; nor 
any man an attaint, but he carries some stain of it : he is me- 
lancholy without cause, and merry against the hair : he hath the 
joints of every thing; but every thing so out of joint, that he is a 
gouty Briareus, many hands and no use ; or purblind Argus, all 
eyes and no sight. 

(£IjataCteC. — Shakspeare. 

Spare in diet; 
Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger ; 
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood; 
Garnish'd and deck'd with modest compliment; 
Not working with the eye, without the ear, 
And, but in purged judgment, trusting neither. 


MANY persons carry about their Characters in their hands; not 
a few under their feet. 

Character. — Shakspeare. 
T>ETNG not propp'd by ancestry, (whose grace 
Chalks successors their way J neither allied 
To eminent assistants, but spider-like, 
Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note, 
The force of his own merit makes his way ; 
A gift that Heaven gives for him. 

(Character. — JVom the French. 
[AN'S Character is like his Shadow, which sometimes follows, 
and sometimes precedes him, and which is occasionally longer, 
occasionally shorter than he is. 



<&l)UX attn. — Hare. 
HTHERE is a glare about worldly success, which is very apt to 
dazzle men's eyes. When we see a man rising in the world; 
thriving in business; successful in his speculations; if he be a man 
out of our own line, who does not come into competition with us, 
so as to make us jealous of him, we are too apt to form a foolishly 
high opinion of his merits. We are apt to say within ourselves, 
"What a wonderful man this must be, to rise so rapidly?" for- 
getting that dust and straw, and feathers, things with neither weight 
nor value in them, rise the soonest and the easiest. In like manner, 
it is not the truly great and good man, generally speaking, who 
rises the most rapidly into wealth and notice. A man may be 
sharp, active, quick, dexterous, cunning; he may be ever on the 
watch for opportunities to push his fortunes; a man of this kind 
can hardly fail of getting on in the world : yet with all this, he 
may not have a grain of real Greatness about him. He may be all 
I have described, and yet have no Greatness of Mind, no Greatness 
of Soul. He may be utterly without Sympathy and fellow-feeling 
for others; he may be utterly devoid of all true Wisdom; he may 
be without Piety and without Charity; without Love, that is, either 
for God or Man. 

(ft jataCter. — Shakspeare. 
r FHERE can be no kernel in this light nut; the Soul of this Man 
is his Clothes. 

Character. — Shakspeare. 

He has been bred i' the wars 
Since he could draw a sword, and is ill-school'd 
In boulted language; meal and bran together 
He throws without distinction. 

Character. — Shakspeare. 
TTO be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those 
things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets. There is 
no slander in an allowed Fool, though he do nothing but rail: nor 
no railing in a known Discreet Man, though he do nothing but 

(ftjjaraCter. — Shakspeare. 

He that trusts you 
Where he should find you Lions, finds you Hares: 
Where Foxes, Geese. You are no surer, no, 
Than is the Coal of Fire upon the Ice, 
Or Hailstone in the Sun. 

<!lf)aniCtet. — Shakspeare. 
Best Men are moulded out of Faults. 


(DJjaraCtet. — Bulwer LytUm. 
~Y"EVER get a Reputation for a small perfection, if you are trying 
for fame in a loftier area. The world can only judge by gene- 
rals, and it sees that those who pay considerable attention to mi- 
nutiae, seldom have their Minds occupied with great things. There 
are, it is true, exceptions; but to exceptions the world does not 

Character. — Coiton. 

THE most consistent men are not more unlike to others than they 
are at times to themselves; therefore, it is ridiculous to see 
Character-mongers drawing a full-length Likeness of some great 
man, and perplexing themselves and their readers by making every 
feature of his Conduct strictly Conform to those lines and linea- 
ments which they have laid down ; they generally find or make for 
him some Ruling Passion the rudder of his course; but with all 
this pother about Ruling Passions, the fact is, that all men and 
all women have but one apparent Good. Those, indeed, are the 
strongest Minds, and are capable of the greatest actions, who possess 
a telescopic power of intellectual vision, enabling them to ascertain 
the real magnitude and importance of distant goods, and to despise 
those which are indebted for all their grandeur solely to their 

(Character. — Shakspeare, 

THE purest treasure mortal times afford, 

Is — spotless Reputation; that away, 
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. 
A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest 
Is — a bold Spirit in a loyal Breast. 

(EfjaraCteC. — Franklin. 
THE most trifling actions that affect a man's Credit are to be re- 
garded. The sound of your hammer at five in the morning, or 
nine at night, heard by a Creditor, makes him easy six months 
longer; but if he sees you at a Billiard table, or hears your voice 
at a Tavern, when you should be at work, he sends for his money 
the next day. 

(Character. — La Rochefoucauld. 
YV'IIATEVER Disgrace we have merited, it is almost always in 
our power to re-establish our Reputation. 

(Character. — Shakspeare. 
T ET me have Men about me that are fat; 

Sleek-headed Men, and such as sleep o' nights : 
Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look ; 
He thinks too much : such Men are dangerous. 


<&t}aXatitt.—-S. T. Coleridge. 

TTOW wonderfully beautiful is the delineation of the Characters 
of the three Patriarchs in Genesis! To be sure, if ever man 
could, without impropriety, be called, or supposed to be, " the 
friend of God," Abraham was that man. We are not surprised 
that Abimelech and Ephron seem to reverence him so profoundly. 
He was peaceful, because of his conscious relation to God. 

Character. — Sliahspeare. 
T OOK, as I blow this feather from my face, 

And as the air blows it to me again, 
Obeying with my wind when I do blow, 
And yielding to another when it blows, 
Commanded always by the greater gust; 
Such is the Lightness of you Common Men. 

(EfjaraCter. — Shakspeare. 
In war was never Lion raged so fierce, 
In peace was never gentle Lamb more mild. 

OnjaraCter. _ Shakspeare. 
r^J_OOD Name, in man, and woman, 

Is the immediate jewel of their souls. 
"Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands : 
But he, that filches from me my Good Name, 
Robs me of that, which not enriches him, 
And makes me poor indeed. 

Character. — Pope. 

Q ELF-LOVE thus push'd to social, to divine, 

Gives thee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine 
Is this too little for the boundless heart ? 
Extend it, let thy enemies have part. 
Grasp the whole world of Reason, Life, and Sense, 
In one close system of benevolence : 
Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree, 
And height of Bliss but height of Charity. 

Character. — Shakspeare. 
A hungry lean-fac'd Villain, 
A mere Anatomy, a Mountebank, 
A thread-bare Juggler, and a Fortune-teller; 
A needy, hollow-ey'd, sharp-looking Wretch, 
A living dead Man ; this pernicious Slave, 
Forsooth, took on him as a Conjurer; 
And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, 
And with no face, as 'twere, out-facing me. 


<£f)aractet. — Shakvpeare. 

In the Reproof of Chance 
Lies the true Proof of Men. The sea being smooth, 
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail 
Upon her patient breast, making their way 
With those of nobler bulk ? 
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage 
The gentle Thetis, and anon, behold 
The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut, 
Bounding between the two moist elements, 
Like Perseus' horse : Where's then the saucy boat, 
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now 
Co-rivall'd greatness ? Either to harbour fled, 
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so 
Doth Valour's Show, and Valour's Worth, divide, 
In storms of Fortune : For, in her ray and brightness, 
The herd hath more annoyance by the brize, 
Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind 
Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, 
And flies fled under shade, why, then the Thing of Courage, 
As roused with rage, with rage doth sympathize, 
And with an accent tuned in self-same key, 
Returns to chiding Fortune. 

Character. — Shakspeare. 
I know him a notorious Liar, 
Think him a great way Fool, solely a Coward ; 
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, 
That they take place, when Virtue's steely bones 
Look bleak in the cold wind : withal, full oft we see 
Cold Wisdom waiting on superfluous Folly. 

(£f)ataCtet. — Shakspeare. 

He reads much : 
He is a great Observer, and he looks 
Quite through the deeds of men : he loves no plays ; 
He hears no music : 

Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort, 
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit 
That could be mov'd to smile at any thing. 
Character. — Shakspeare. 
TTE'S truly valiant, that can wisely suffer 
-*--*- The worst that man can breathe ; and make his wrongs 
His outsides; to wear them like his raiment, carelessly ; 
And ne'er prefer his Injuries to his Heart, 
To bring it into danger. 


atijatitg.— Pope. 

JN Faith and Hope the world will disagree, 
But all mankind's concerned in Charity : 
All must be false that thwart this one great end; 
And all of God, that bless mankind, or mend. 

(Sjatttg* — Spenser. 

Good is no good but if it be spend : 
God giveth good for none other end. 

(Efjaritj). — Byron. 
The drying up a single tear has more 
Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore. 

(tfijarttg.— Pope. 

TS there a variance ? enter but his door, 

Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no more. 
Despairing quacks with curses left the place, 
And vile attorneys, now a useless race. 

(ftjarttg,— - Cotton. 

T>OSTHUMOUS Charities are the very essence of Selfishness, 
when bequeathed by those who, when alive, would part with 

(ftjatttg. — Seneca. 
A PHYSICIAN is not angry at the intemperance of a mad patient, 
nor does he take it ill to be railed at by a man in a fever. Just 
so should a wise man treat all mankind, as a physician does his 
patient, and look upon them only as -sick and extravagant. 

<£i)arttp. — Shakspeare. 
Gently to hear, kindly to judge. 

$Jui)ltc <£f)arittes.— Coiton. 

"pUBLIC Charities and benevolent Associations for the gratuitous 
Relief of every species of Distress, are peculiar to Christianity ; 
no other system of civil or religious policy has originated them ; 
they form its highest praise and characteristic feature. 

2Tf)e Charlatan. — Shakspeare. 
TTE now, forsooth, takes on him to reform 

Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees, 
That lie too heavy on the Commonwealth : 
Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep 
Over his country's wrongs; and, by this Face, 
This seeming Brow of Justice, did he win 

The hearts of all that he did angle for. 



(CfjclStttg. — Shakspearc. 
The Heavens hold firm 
The walls of thy dear Honour ; keep unshak'd 
That Temple, thy fair Mind. 

<&%a$tit$. — SaviUe. 

A CLOSE Behaviour is the fittest to receive Virtue for its constant 
guest, because there, and there only, it can be secure. Proper 
Reserves are the outworks, and must never be deserted by those who 
intend to keep the place ; they keep off the possibilities not only of 
being taken, but of being attempted; and if a woman seeth danger, 
though at never so remote a distance, she is for that time to shorten 
her line of liberty. She, who will allow herself to go to the utmost 
extent of every thing that is lawful, is so very near going further, 
that those who lie at watch will begin to count upon her. 

(£Ijeerf ulncss. — Pope. 

"IXrHAT then remains, but well our power to use, 

And keep Good Humour still, whate'er we lose ? 
And trust me, dear Good Humour can prevail, 
When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail; 
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; 
Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul. 

CCfjCClt UiHCSiS. — Collins. 
THEN Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, 


Her bow across her shoulders flung, 

Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, 

Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung. 

(Cijeett UlneSS. — Montaigne. 
The most manifest sign of Wisdom is continued Cheerfulness. 

(CljeeCf UlneSS. — Lord Bolingbrohe. 
T HAVE observed, that in comedies the best actor plays the droll 
while some scrub rogue is made the fine gentleman or hero 
Thus it is in the farce of Life, — wise men spend their time ir 
Mirth, 'tis only fools who are serious. 

Cheerfulness. —Steele. 

QHEERFULXESS is always to be supported if a man is out of 
pain, but Mirth to a prudent man should always be accidental. 
It should naturally arise out of the occasion, and the occasion 
seldom be laid fur it; for those tempers who want Mirth to be 
pleased, are like the constitutions which flag without the use of 
brandy. Therefore, I say, let your precept be, " be easy." That 
mind is dissolute and ungoverned, which must be hurried out of 
itself by loud laughter or sensual pleasure, or else be wholly in 


(Cheerfulness. — Coiton. 

rjHEERFULNESS ought to be the viaticum vitse of their life to 
the old ; age without Cheerfulness, is a Lapland winter without 
a sun ; and this spirit of Cheerfulness should be encouraged in our 
youth, if we would wish to have the benefit of it in our old age; 
time will make a generous wine more mellow; but it will turn 
that which is early on the fret, to vinegar. 

Cheerfulness. — Seneca. 

npKUE Joy is a serene and sober motion: and they are miserably 
out, that take Laughing for rejoicing : the seat of it is within, 
and there is no Cheerfulness like the resolutions of a brave mind. 

(Kljeetf UlneSS. —Horace. 
r PHE Mind that is cheerful in its present state, will be averse to 
all solicitude as to the future, and will meet the bitter occur- 
rences of Life with a placid Smile. 

<ftf)<*tf UlneSS. — Pliny. 
A S in our lives so also in our studies, it is most becoming and 
most wise, so to temper Gravity with Cheerfulness, that the 
former may not imbue our minds with Melancholy, nor the latter 
degenerate into Licentiousness. 

(Efteetf UlneSS. — Massinger. 
Cheerful looks make every dish a feast, 
And 'tis that crowns a welcome. 

(£fjeetfulneSS.— Spenser. 
A ND her against sweet Cheerfulnesse was placed, 

Whose eyes like twinkling stars in evening cleare, 
"Were deckt with smyles, and all Sad Humors chased, 
And darted forth Delights, the which her goodly grae'd. 

(£{)ttltnQ. — Sliahspeare. 

Those, that do teach young babes, 
Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks ; 
He might have Chid me so : for, in good faith, 
I am a child to Chiding. 

Cf)e djlttl. — Byron. 
~DUT thou wilt burst this transient sleep, 

And thou wilt wake, my Babe, to weep ; 
The tenant of a frail abode, 
Thy tears must flow, as mine have flow'd : 
Beguil'd by follies every day, 
Sorrow must wash the faults away, 
And thou rnay'st wake perchance to prove 
The pang of unrequited love. 


<Ef)C ftjiftL — Byron. 

C WEET be thy cradled slumbers ! O'er the sea, 
And from the mountains where I now respire, 
Fain would I waft such blessing upon thee, 
As, with a sigh, I deem thou might' st have been to me ! 

Cj)e (£f)tft(. — Campbell 
T ! at the couch where Infant Beauty sleeps, 

Her silent watch the mournful Mother .keeps : 
She, while the lovely Babe unconscious lies, 
Smiles on her slumbering Child with pensive eyes, 
And weaves a song of melancholy joy — 
" Sleep, image of thy father, sleep, my boy : 
No lingering hour of sorrow shall be thine; 
No sigh that rends thy Father's heart and mine ; 
Bright as his manly Sire the Son shall be 
In form and soul ; but, ah ! more blessed than he ! 
Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last, 
Shall soothe this aching heart for all the past — 
With many a smile my solitude repay, 
And chase the world's ungenerous scorn away." 

CfjC (CljtltJ. — Rogers. 
THE hour arrives, the moment wish'd and fear'd ; 

The Child is born, by many a pang endear'd. 
And now the Mother's ear has caught his cry; 
Oh grant the Cherub to her asking eye ! 
He comes . . . she clasps him. To her bosom press'd, 
He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest. 

Z\)Z (&\)i[b. — Rogers. 
Then, gathering round his bed, they climb to share 
His kisses, and with gentle violence there, 
Break in upon a dream not half so fair. 

Cfje (Efjittr. — ifynm. 

TO aid thy Mind's Developments, — to watch 

Thy Dawn of little Joys, — to sit and see 
Almost thy very Growth, — to view thee catch 

Knowledge of objects, — wonders yet to thee ! 

To hold thee lightly on a gentle knee, 
And print on thy soft cheek a Parent's kiss; — 

This, it should seem, was not reserved for me ! 
Yet this was in my nature : — as it is, 
I know not what is there, yet something like to this. 


<£f)tttlf)00tJ. — Bishop Erie. 
A CHILD is man in a small letter, yet the best copy of Adam, 
before he tasted of Eve or the apple; and he is happy whose 
small practice in the world can only write his character. His soul 
is yet a white paper unscribbled with observations of the world, 
wherewith, at length, it becomes a blurred note-book. He is purely 
happy, because he knows no evil, nor hath made means by sin to 
be acquainted with misery. He arrives not at the mischief of being 
wise, nor endures evils to come, by foreseeing them. He kisses 
and loves all, and, when the smart of the rod is past, smiles on his 
beater. The elder he grows, he is a stair lower from God. He is 
the Christian's example, and the old man's relapse; the one imi- 
tates his pureness, and the other falls into his simplicity. Could 
he put off his body with his little coat, he had got eternity without 
a burden, and exchanged but one heaven for another. 

(£f)tttfrm— Byron. 
VET a fine Family is a fine thing 

(Provided they don't come in after dinner;) 
'Tis beautiful to see a Matron bring 

Her Children up, (if nursing them don't thin her.) 

(EfyiltiUn. — Byron. 

He smiles, and sleeps ! — sleep on 
And smile, thou little, young Inheritor 
Of a world scarce less young: sleep on, and smile! 
Thine are the hours and days when both are cheering 
And innocent ! 

(StyXUXtXl. — Thomson. 
T OOK here and weep with tenderness and transport 

What is all tasteless luxury to this? 
To these best joys, which holy Love bestows? 
Oh Nature, parent Nature, thou alone 
Art the true judge of what can make us happy. 

<&§iVbUn. — GrevUle. 
T HARDLY know so melancholy a reflection, as that Parents are 
necessarily the sole directors of the management of Children ; 
whether they have, or have not, judgment, penetration, or taste, to 
perform the task. 

<£f) tlfcCCn. — Cicero. 
Yy HAT gift has Providence bestowed on Man, that is so dear to 

him as his Children ? 


QfyiXHXm. — Byrvn. 

T OOK! how he lauglis and stretches out his arms, 

And opens wide his blue eyes upon thine, 
To hail bis Father: while his little form 
Flutters as wing'd with joy. Talk not of pain! 
The childless cherubs well might envy thee 
The pleasures of a Parent ! Bless him ! 
As yet he hath no words to thank thee, but 
His heart will, and thine own too. 

(Cfjtttiart.— Oehlenschlager. 
THE plays of natural lively Children are the infancy of art. 
Children live in the world of imagination and feeling. They 
invest the most insignificant object with any form they please, and 
see in it whatever they wish to see. 

(CJjtltlten. — Thomson. 
"YfEANTDIE a smiling Offspring rises round, 

And mingles both their graces. By degrees, 
The Human Blossom blows; and every day, 
Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm. 

(CljOtCC Of Elfe. — Cicero. 

THE number is small of those persons, who, either by extraor- 
dinary pre-eminence of genius, or by superior erudition and 
knowledge, or who, endowed with either of these, have enjoyed the 
privilege of deliberately deciding what Mode of Life they would the 
most wish to embrace. 

2Tf)e (Efytilctit. — Fuller. 
THOSE Passionate Persons who carry their heart in their mouth 
are rather to be pitied than feared; their threatenings serving 
qo other purpose than to forearm him that is threatened. 

£i)ti$tianitv. — A?wn. 

THERE is only one way in which Philosophy can truly become 
popular, that which Socrates tried, and which centuries after 
was perfected in the Gospel, — that which tells men of their Divine 
Origin and Destiny, of their Heavenly Duties and Calling. This 
comes home to men's hearts and bosoms, and, instead of puffing 
them up, humbles them. But to be efficient, this should flow down 
straight from a higher sphere. Even in its Socratic form, it was 
supported by those higher principles, which we find set forth with 
such power and beauty by Plato. In Christian Philosophy, on the 
other hand, the ladder has come down from heaven, and the angels 
are continually descending and ascending along it. 


<Et)XiStianit)}.— Channing. 
CJINCE its introduction, human nature has made great progress, 
and society experienced great changes; and in this advanced 
condition of the world, Christianity, instead of losing its applica- 
tion and importance, is found to be more and more congenial and 
adapted to man's nature and wants. Men have outgrown the other 
institutions of that period when Christianity appeared, its philoso- 
phy, its modes of warfare, its policy, its public and private economy; 
but Christianity has never shrunk as intellect has opened, but has 
always kept in advance of men's faculties, and unfolded nobler 
views in proportion as they have ascended. The highest powers 
and affections which our nature has developed, find more than ade- 
quate objects in this religion. Christianity is indeed peculiarly 
fitted to the more improved stages of society, to the more delicate 
sensibilities of refined minds, and especially to that dissatisfaction 
with the present state, which always grows with the growth of our 
moral powers and affections. 

<&f)Urd). — Burns. 
TTERE some are thinkin' on their sins, 

An' some upo' their claes; 
Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins, 

Anither sighs an' prays : 
On this hand sits a chosen swatch, 

Wi' screw' d-up, grace-proud faces; 
On that, a set o' chaps, at watch, 
Thrang winkin' on the lasses. 

Cfje (£ttt?Ctt- — Cowper. 
SUBURBAN villas, highway-side retreats, 

That dread th' encroachment of our growing streets, 
Tight boxes, neatly sash'd, and in a blaze 
"With all a July sun's collected rays, 
Delight the citizen, who gasping there 
Breathes clouds of dust, and calls it country air. 

2Tf)e (£iti}tn.— Churchill. 
C\R at some Banker's desk, like many more, 

Content to tell that two and two make four, 
His name had stood in City annals fair, 
And prudent dulness mark'd him for a Mayor. 

(fttbtlttg. _ Chesterfield. 
'THE insolent Civility of a proud man is, if pcssible, more shock- 
ing than his Rudeness could be; because he shows you, by his 
Manner, that he thinks it mere Condescension in him; a.nd that 
his goodness alone bestows upon you what you have no pretence to 



(Ttbtlttp. —TiUotson. 
A GOOD "Word is an easy Obligation j but not to speak ill, re- 
quires only our silence, which costs us nothing. 

<£tbtlt?at(0n.— Burke. 
T\ r F are but too apt to consider things in the state in which we 
find them, without sufficiently adverting to the causes by 
which they have been produced, and possibly may be upheld. 
Nothing is more certain than that our Manners, our Civilization, 
and all the good things which are connected with Civilization, 
have, in this European world of ours, depended for ages upon two 
principles; and were indeed the result of both combined; I mean 
the spirit of a Gentleman and the spirit of Religion. The Nobility 
and the Clergy, the one by profession, the other by patronage, kept 
learning in existence even in the midst of arms and confusion, and 
whilst governments were rather in their causes than formed. Learn- 
ing paid back what it received to Nobility and Priesthood, and paid 
it with usury, by enlarging their ideas and by furnishing their minds. 

(£Mlv } atim\. — Anon. 

TN the Bible the Body is said to be more than Raiment. But 
many people still read the Bible Hebrew-wise, backward : and 
thus the general conviction now is that Raiment is more than the 
Body. There is so much to gaze and stare at in the Dress, one's 
eyes are quite dazzled and weary, and can hardly pierce through to 
that which is clothed upon. So too is it with the mind and heart, 
scarcely less than with the body. 

(fttbtlijattoll.— Bare. 

The ultimate tendency of Civilization, is toward Barbarism. 

©ibtlt?atum.— Coiton. 

A LL nations that have reached the highest point of Civilization, 
may from that hour assume for their motto, viderl quam 
esse. And whenever and wherever we see Ostentation substituted 
for Happiness, Profession for Friendship, Formality for Religion, 
Pedantry for Learning, BufFoonry for Wit, Artifice for Nature, and 
Hypocrisy for every thing ; these are the signs of the times which 
he that runs may read, and which will enable the Philosopher to 
date the commencement of National Decay, from the consummation 
of National Refinement. 

(Etbtlt^attOtt.— Sore. 

QHRTSTIANITY has carried Civilization along with it, whither- 
soever it has gone : and, ns if to show that the latter does not 
end on physical causes, some of the countries the most civilized 

in the days of Augustus are now in a state of hopeless Barbarism. 


(£MU}atwn. — Coiton. 

^SEMI-CIVILIZED state of Society, equally removed from the 
extremes of Barbarity and of Refinement, seems to be that par- 
ticular meridian under which all the reciprocities and gratuities of 
hospitality do most really flourish and abound. For it so happens 
that the ease, the luxury, and the abundance of the highest state 
of Civilization, are as productive of selfishness, as the difficulties, 
the privations, and the sterilities of the lowest. 

(Classical Studies. — story. 

FT is no exaggeration to declare that he who proposes to abolish 
classical studies proposes to render, in a great measure, inert 
and unedifying the mass of English literature for three centuries; 
to rob us of the glory of the past, and much of the instruction of 
future ages; to blind us to excellences which few may hope to 
equal and none to surpass; to annihilate associations which are 
interwoven withour best sentiments, and give to distant times and 
countries a presence and reality as if they were in fact his own. 

(ftleaitlmegS. — Thomson. 
Even from the Body's Purity, the Mind 
Receives a secret sympathetic aid. 

(Climate. — Sir W. Temple. 
OUR Country must be confessed to be, what a great foreign 
physician called it, the region of* spleen; which may arise a 
good deal from the great uncertainty and many sudden changes of 
our weather in all seasons of the year : and how much these affect 
the heads and hearts, especially of the finest tempers, is hard to be 
believed by men whose thoughts are not turned to such specula- 

<E*lttttat0* — Justus Moser. 
npHE institutions of a Country depend in great measure on the 
Nature of its Soil and Situation. Many of the wants of man 
are awakened or supplied by these circumstances. To these wants, 
manners, laws, and religion must shape and accommodate themselves. 
The division of Land, and the rights attached to it, alter with the 
Soil; the laws, relating to its Produce, with its Fertility. The man- 
ners of its inhabitants are in various ways modified by its Position. 
The religion of a miner is not the same as the faith of a shepherd, 
nor is the character of the ploughman so warlike as that of the 
hunter. The observant legislator follows the direction of all these 
various circumstances. The knowledge of the Natural Advantages 
or Defects of a Country thus form an essential part of political 
science and history. 


(£luu (goSStp..— Shakspeare. 
HTHEY'LL sit by the fire, and presume to know 

What's done i' the Capitol : who's like to rise, 
"Who thrives, and who declines; side factions, and give out 
Conjectural marriages; making parties strong, 
And feebling such as stand not in their liking. 

<E0 mm enfcatiOlt. — Fielding. 
QOMMEND a Fool for his Wit, or a Knave for his Honesty, 
and they will receive you into their bosom. 

(Commerce. — Addison. 
A WELL-REGULATED Commerce is not, like law, physic, 01 
divinity, to be over-stocked with hands; but, on the contrary, 
flourishes by multitudes, and gives employment to all its professors. 

(Commerce.— Anon. 

A STATESMAN may do much for Commerce, most by leaving 
it alone. A river never flows so smoothly, as when it follows 
its own course, without either aid or check. Let it make its own 
bed : it will do so better than you can. 

2H)e <£omct. — Thomson. 
T ! from the dread immensity of space 

Returning, with accelerated course, 
The rushing Comet to the sun descends: 
And as he sinks below the shading earth, 
AVith awful train projected o'er the heavens, 
The guilty nations tremble. 

<ftompantonsf)tp.— GrevUk. 

OUR Companions please us less from the charms we find in their 
conversation, than from those they find in ours. 

(ftomparttOnSfnp. — Lessing. 
r pHE most agreeable of all Companions is a simple, frank man, 
without any high pretensions to an oppressive greatness : one 
who loves life, and understands the use of it; obliging, alike at 
all hours; above all, of a golden temper, and steadfast as an anchor. 
For such an one we gladly exchange the greatest genius, the 
most brilliant wit, the profoundest thinker. 

OTompanj). — Chesterfield. 
j\"0 man can possibly improve in any Company, for which he has 
not respect enough to be under some degree of restraint. 

(ftOmpattg, — Lavater. 

f J^HE freer you feel yourself in the presence of another, the more 
free is he. 


atompang. — Chesterfield. 
THAKE, rather than give, the tone of the Company you are in 
If you have parts, you will show them, more or less, upon 
every subject; and if you have not, you had better talk sillily upon 
a subject of other people's than your own choosing. 

(ftmttpattg,— Bmft. 

"^"ATURE has left every man a capacity of being agreeable, though 
not of shining in Company; and there are a hundred men 
sufficiently qualified for both who, by a very few faults, that they 
might correct in half an hour, are not so much as tolerable. 

(EompariSim. — Skakspeare. 
\\n3EN the Moon shone, we did not see the Candle. 

So doth the greater glory dim the less ; 
A Substitute shines brightly as a King, 
Until a King be by; and then his state 
Empties itself, as doth an inland Brook 
Into the Main of Waters. 

(&omyaxmn.— Johnson. 

HTHE Superiority of some men is merely local. They are great, 
because their associates are little. 

(ftompariSOnS. —Addison. 
NOTWITHSTANDING- man's essential Perfection is but very 
little, his comparative Perfection may be very considerable. 
If he looks upon himself in an abstracted light, he has not much to 
boast of; but if he considers himself with regard to others, he may 
find occasion of glorying, if not in his own Virtues, at least in the 
absence of another's Imperfections. This gives a different turn to 
the reflections of the Wise man and the Fool. The first endeavours 
to shine in himself, and the last to outshine others. The first is 
humbled by the sense of his own infirmities, the last is lifted up by 
the discovery of those which he observes in other men. The Wiss 
Man considers what he wants, aud the Fool what he abounds in. 
The Wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation, and 
the Fool when he recommends himself to the applause of those 
about hiui. 

C£omplatnmg. — Skakspeare. 
I WILL chide no breather in the world, but myself; against whom 
I know most faults. 

(Compliments. — Chesterfield. 
(COMPLIMENTS of Congratulation are always kindly taken, and 
cost one nothing but pen, ink, and paper. I consider them as 
draughts upon Good Breeding, where the exchange is always 
greatly in favour of the drawer. 


{Composition* — Cotton. 

'THE great cause of that delight we receive from a fine Compo- 
sition, whether it be in Prose or in Yerse, I conceive to be 
this : the marvellous and magic power it confers upon the reader ; 
enabling an inferior mind at one glance, and almost without an ef- 
fort, to seize, to embrace, and to enjoy those remote Combinations 
of Wit, melting Harmonies of Sound, and vigorous Condensations 
of Sense, that cost a superior mind so much perseverance, labour, 
and time. 

(COttCCit. — Cotton. 
"^"ONE are so seldom found alone, and are so soon tired of their 
own company, as those Coxcombs who are on the best terms 
with themselves. 

(Conceit — Pope. 
f^ONCEIT is to nature what paint is to beauty ; it is not only 
needless, but impairs what it would improve. 

(Conceit. — Sliakspeare. 
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. 

(Conciliation Cicero. 

TT is the part of a prudent man to conciliate the minds of others ; 
and to turn them to his own advantage. 

(ContJUCt. — Shakspcare. 

GlVE every man thine ear, but few thy voice : 
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. 

{Contmct. — Shakspeare. 
F)EFECT of Manners, want of Government, 

Pride, Haughtiness, Opinion, and Disdain : 
The least of which, 

Loseth men's hearts j and leaves behind a stain 
Upon the beauty of all parts besides, 
Beguiling them of commendation. 

{Conduct. — Greville. 
JT is not enough that you form, nay, and follow, the most ex 
cellent Rules for Conducting yourself in the world ; you must also 
know when to deviate from them, and where lies the exception. 

(ContJUCt. — Clarendon. 
JF we do not weigh and consider to what end this life is given us, 
and thereupon order and dispose it right, pretend what we will 
to the arithmetic, we do not, we cannot, so much as number our 
days in they narrowest and most limited signification. 



(Conflict — Shakspeare. 
PTAVE more than thou showest, 
Speak less than thou knowest, 
Lend less than thou owest, 
Learn more than thou trowest, 
Set less than than thou throwest. 

(KcmftUCt — Epidetus. 
rjPON every fresh accident, turn your eyes inward and examine 
how your are qualified to encounter it. If you see any very 
beautiful person, you will find Continence to oppose against the 
temptation. If labour and difficulty come in your way, you will 
find a remedy in Hardiness and Resolution. If you lie under the 
obloquy of an ill tongue, Patience and Meekness are the proper 
fences against it. 

(ftOttfMCt. — Shakspeare. 
Things ill got had ever bad success. 

(ftOTttmct — Seneca. 
I" WILL govern my life, and my thoughts, as if the whole world 
were to see the one, and to read the other j for what does it 
signify, to make any thing a secret to my neighbour, when to God 
(who is the searcher of our hearts) all our privacies are open ? 

(ftmrtJUCt— Fuller. 

A LL tbe while thou livest ill, thou hast the trouble, distraction, 
inconveniences of life, but not the sweets and true use of it. 

(ftOUfcltCt. —Epidetus. 
A S in walking it is your great care not to run } T our foot upon a 
nail, or to tread awry, and strain your leg; so let it be in all the 
Affairs of Human Life, not to hurt your Mind, or offend your Judg- 
ment. And this rule, if observed carefully in all your deportment, 
will be a mighty security to you in your undertakings. 

GtontJUCt. — Shakspeare. 
(~)BEY thy parents, keep thy word justly; swear not; commit 
not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud 
array. . . . Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy pen from lenders' 

(ftontntCt. — Joanna Baillie. 
[ WOULD, God knows, in a poor woodman's hut 

Have spent my peaceful days, and shared my crust 
With her who would have cheer'd me, rather far 
Than on this throne ; but being what I am, 
I'll be it nobly. 


(Conduct —Joanna BailUe. 
T TAKE of worthy men whate'er they give : 

Their Heart I gladly take, if not their Hand ) 
If that too is withheld, a courteous Word, 
Or the Civility of placid Looks. 

(EcnfcUCt. —Pope. 
TirHEX we are young, we are slavishly employed in procuring 
something whereby we may live comfortably when we grow 
old ; and when we are old, we perceive it is too late to live as we 

(TorrtJUCt. — Coicper. 

Disgust conceal'd 
Is oft-times proof of Wisdom, when the fault 
Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach. 

(TontJUCt. — Shakspcare. 
Self-love is not so vile a sin 
As self-neglecting. 

(EontlUCt.— Byron. 

To what gulphs 
A single deviation from the track 
Of Human Duties leads even those who claim 
The homage of mankind as their born due, 
And find it, till they forfeit it themselves ! 

(ConTmrt. — Cowper. 

TTE that negotiates between God and Man, 

As God's Ambassador, the grand concerns 
Of Judgment and of Mercy, should beware 
Of lightness in his speech. ; Tis pitiful 
To court a grin, when you should woo a soul; 
To break a jest, when pity would inspire 
Pathetic exhortation ; and address 
The skittish fancy with facetious tales, 
When sent with God's commission to the heart ! 

(Coirtmrt. —Joanna Baillie. 
nrO whom do lions cast their gentle looks? 

Not to the beast that would usurp their den. 
Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? 
Not his that spoils her young before her face. 
Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? 
Not he that sets his foot upon her back. 
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on ; 
And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. 


(ContJUCt. — Milton. 

Only add 
Deeds to thy Knowledge answerable, add Faith, 
Add Virtue, Patience, Temperance, add Love, 
By name to come call'd Charity, the soul 
Of all the rest : then wilt thou not be loath 
To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess 
A Paradise within thee, happier far. 

(COttOUCt. — Milton. 

Son of Heav'n and Earth, 
Attend : that tnou art happy, owe to God ; 
That thou continuest such, owe to thyself, 
That is, to thy Obedience ; therein stand. 

(Confession.— Pope. 

A MAN should never be ashamed to own he has been in the 
wrong, which is but saying in other words, that he is wiser 
to-day than he was yesterday. 

(Confidence. — Shakspeare. 
Trust not him that hath once broken Faith. 

(Confidence. — Cotton. 

""WHEN young, we trust ourselves too much, and we trust others 
too little when old. Rashness is the error of Youth, timid 
caution of Age. Manhood is the isthmus between the two ex- 
tremes ; the ripe and fertile season of Action, when alone we can 
hope to find the head to contrive, united with the hand to execute. 

(Confidence. — Lavater. 
TRUST him little who praises all, him less who censures all, and 
him least who is indifferent about all. 

(&f}Tt8titrtCt.— Addison. 

A MAN'S first care should be to avoid the reproaches of his own 
Heart; his next, to escape the censures of the World. If the 
last interferes with the former, it ought to be entirely neglected ; 
but otherwise there cannot be a greater satisfaction to an honest 
mind, than to see those approbations which it gives itself seconded 
by the applauses of the public. 

(Conscience. — Coiton. 

TATE should have all our communications with men, as in the 
presence of God ; and with God, as in the presence of men. 

(Conscience. — Coiton. 

T^HE Breast of a good man is a little heaven commencing on earth; 

where the Deity sits enthroned with unrivalled influence, every 

subjugated passion, " like the wind and storm, fulfilling his word/'' 


Conscience. — .ra^. 

HTHE most reckless Sinner against his own Conscience has always 
in the background the consolation, that he will go on in this 
course only this time, or only so long, but that at such a time he 
will amend. We may be assured that we do not stand clear with 
our own Consciences, so long as we determine, or project, or even 
hold it possible, at some future time to alter our course of action. 

Conscience. — South. 

A PALSY may as well shake an oak, or a fever dry up a fountain, 
as either of them shake, dry up, or impair the delight of Con- 
science. For it lies within, it centres in the heart, it grows into 
the very substance of the soul, so that it accompanies a man to his 
grave ; he never outlives it, and that for this cause only, because 
he cannot outlive himself. 

Conscience. —Horace. 

~^OT even for an hour can you bear to be alone, nor can you 
advantageously apply your leisure time, but you endeavour, a 
fugitive and wanderer, to escape from yourself, now vainly seeking 
to banish Remorse by wine, and now b} T sleep; but the gloomy 
companion presses on you, and pursues you as you fly. 

Conscience. — Shdkspeare. 
Unnatural deeds 
Do breed unnatural troubles : Infected minds 
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. 

Conscience. — South. 

]V"0 man ever offended his own Conscience, but first or last it was 
^ revenged upon him for it. 

Conscience. — Shdkspeare. 
QONSCIENCE, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot steal, but 
it accuseth him ; a man cannot swear, but it checks him ; a man 
cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him. 

Conscience.— Fuller. 

TF thou wouldst be informed what God has written concerning thee 
in Heaven, look into thine own Bosom, and see what graces he 
hath there wrought in thee. 

Conscience. — S. T. Coleridge. 
(^JAN any thing be more dreadful than the Thought, that an in- 
nocent child has inherited from you a disease, or a weakness, 
the penalty in yourself of sin, or want of caution ? 

Conscience. — Fuller. 

A GUILTY Conscience is like a whirlpool, drawing in all to itself 
which would otherwise pass by. 


Conscience* — Shakspeare. 
\\THO would bear the whips and scorns of Time, 

The Oppressor's wrong, the Proud Man's contumely, 
The pangs of despised Love, the Law's delay, 
The insolence of Office, and the spurns 
That patient Merit of the unworthy takes, 
When he himself might his quietus make 
With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, 
To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; 
But that the dread of something after death, — 
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn 
No traveller returns, — puzzles the will; 
And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
Than fly to others that we know not of? 
Thus Conscience doth make cowards of us all ; 
And thus the native hue of Resolution 
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of Thought; 
And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
With this regard, their currents turn awry, 
And lose the name of Action. 

Conscience, — Mason. 

'Tis ever thus 
With noble minds, if chance they slide to folly ; 
Remorse stings deeper, and relentless Conscience, 
Pours more of gall into the bitter cup 
Of their severe Repentance. 

Conscience. — Shakspeare. 
'TRY what Repentance can. What can it not? 

Yet what can it, when one cannot repent ? 
O wretched state ! bosom, black as death ! 
limed soul, that, struggling to be free, 
Art more engaged ! 

Conscience. — Coiton. 

TO be satisfied with the Acquittal of the World, though accom- 
panied with the secret Condemnation of Conscience, this is the 
mark of a little mind ; but it requires a soul of no common stamp 
to be satisfied with its own Acquittal, and to despise the Condemna- 
tion of the World. 

<£tmmtVltt. — Shakspeare. 
T^THAT stronger breast-plate than a Heart untainted? 

Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just; 
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, 
Whose Conscience with Injustice is corrupted. 


<&Q1l8timtt.— Dryden. 

Here, here it lies : a lump of lead by day ; 
And in my short, distracted, nightly slumbers, 
The hag that rides my dreams. 

(Conscience. — Steele. 
r FHE "World will never be in any manner of order or tranquillity, 
until men are firmly convinced, that Conscience, Honour, and 
Credit are all in one interest ; and that without the concurrence 
of the former, the latter are but impositions upon ourselves and 

(Conscience.— Milton. 

TTE that has light within his own clear Breast, 
May sit i' th' centre, and enjoy bright day : 
But he that hides a dark Soul, and foul Thoughts, 
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun : 
Himself is his own dungeon. 

(Conscience. — Young. 
rjONSCIENCE, what art thou? thou tremendous power! 

Who dost inhabit us without our leave; 
And art within ourselves, another self, 
A master-self, that loves to domineer, 
And treat the monarch frankly as the slave : 
How dost thou light a torch to distant deeds ? 
Make the past, present, and the future frown ? 
How, ever and anon, awake the soul, 
As with a peal of thunder, to strange horrors, 
In this long restless dream, which idiots hug, 
Nay, wise men flatter with the name of life. 

(Conscience. — ShaJcspeare. 
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very Soul ; 
And there I see such black and grained spots, 
As will not leave their tinct. 

(Conscience. — Shakspeare. 

Better be with the dead, 
"Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace, 
Than on the Torture of the Mind to lie 
In restless ecstasy. 

(Conscience. — Cmbbe. 

QH ! Conscience ! Conscience ! Man's most faithful friend, 

Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend : 
But if he will thy friendly checks forego, 
Thou art, oh ! wo for me, his deadliest foe ! 


(KonSCtntCC. — Byron. 

Horror and doubt distract 
His troubled Thoughts, and from the bottom stir 
The Hell within him ; for within him Hell 
He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell 
One step no more than from himself can fly 
By change of place. 

(EfmXtitntZ. — Byron. 
Y^T still there whispers the Small Voice within, 

Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din 
Whatever creed be taught or land be trod, 
Man's Conscience is the oracle of God ! 

(&$mtizmt. — Byron. 
HPHE Mind, that broods o'er guilty woes, 

Is like the scorpion girt by fire, 
In circle narrowing as it glows, 
The flames around their captive close, 
Till inly search'd by thousand throes, 

And maddening in her ire, 
One and sole relief she knows : 
The sting she nourish'd for her foes, 
Whose venom never yet was vain, 
Gives but one pang, and cures all pain, 
And darts into her desperate brain. 
So do the dark in Soul expire, 
Or live like scorpion girt by fire ; 
So writhes the Mind Remorse hath riven, 
Unfit for earth, undoom'd for Heaven, 
Darkness above, despair beneath, 
Around it flame, within it death ! 

<£cn0CtenCC. — Shakspeare. 

I feel within me 
A peace above all earthly dignities, 
A still and quiet Conscience. 

(£0n!5CtenCC. — Shakspeare. 
My Conscience hath a thousand several tongues, 
And every tongue brings in a several tale, 
And every tale condemns me for a Villain. 

(Conscience. — Byron. 

There is no future pang 
Can deal that justice on the self-condemn'd 
He deals on his own soul. 


(CcmSCtCIUSttCSS. — Bruyere. 
T'O feel tbe want of reason is next to having it; an idiot is not 
capable of this sensation. The best thing next to wit is a Con- 
sciousness that it is not in us; without wit, a man might then 
know how to behave himself, so as not to appear to be a fool or a 

(ConScqitCnCCS. — Cotton. 

A S the dimensions of the tree are not always regulated by the 
size of the seed, so the Consequences of things are not always 
proportionate to the apparent magnitude of those events that have 
produced them. Thus, the American Revolution, from which little 
was expected, produced much; but the French Revolution, from 
which much was expected, produced little. 

(Consolation. — Rousseau. 
(CONSOLATION indiscreetly pressed upon us, when we are suffer- 
ing under affliction, only serves to increase our pain, and to 
render our grief more poignant. 

(Conspttaq). — Shakspeare. 
Conspiracy ! 
Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, 
When evils are most free ? 0, then, by day, 
Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 
To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, Conspiracy; 
Hide it in smiles and affability. 

(Contemplation.— Burnet. 

HTHERE is no lasting pleasure but Contemplation; all others 
grow flat and insipid upon frequent use; and when a man hath 
run through a set of vanities, in the declension of his age, he 
knows not what to do with himself, if he cannot think : he saunters 
about from one dull business to another, to wear out time; and 
hath no reason to value Life but because he is afraid of Death. 

(Contempt. — 8hakspeare. 

MAJESTY might never yet endure 
The moody frontier of a servant brow. 

(Contempt.— Byron. 

Pardon is for men, 
And not for reptiles — we have none for Steno, 
And no resentment; things like him must sting, 
And higher beings suffer: 'tis the charter 
Of life. The man who dies by the adder's fang 
May have the crawler crush'd, but feels no anger: 
'Twas the worm's nature; and some men are worms 
In soul more than the living things of tombs. 


(Contempt. — Shakspeare. 

"What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, 
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, 
When he might spurn him with his foot away? 

(Contempt. — Chesterfield. 
TT is very often more necessary to conceal Contempt than Resent- 
ment, the former being never forgiven, but the latter sometimes 

(Contempt. — Massing*-. 

The Prince that pardons 
The first affront offer'd to Majesty, 
Invites a second, rendering that power, 
Subjects should tremble at, contemptible. 
Ingratitude is a monster, 
To be strangled in the birth. 

(Content. — Spenser. 
TT is the Mynd that maketh good or ill, 

That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poore ; 
For some, that hath abundance at his will, 
Hath not enough, but wants in greatest store ; 
And other, that hath little, asks no more, 
But in that little is both rich and wise ; 
For Wisdome is most riches ; Fooles therefore 
They are which Fortune's doe by vowes devize, 
Sith each unto himself his life may fortunize. 

(Content. — Shakspeare. 

Best State, contentless 
Hath a distracted and most wretched being, 
Worse than the worse, Content. 

(Content. — Shakspeare. 
He that commends me to mine own Content, 
Commends me to the thing I cannot get. 

(Content. — Shakspeare. 

"AfY Crown is in my Heart, not on my Head; 

Xot deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones, 
2s or to be seen : my Crown is called Content; 
A Crown it is that seldom Kings enjoy. 

Content. —Shakspeare. 
Poor, and Content, is rich and rich enough; 
But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, 
To him that ever fears he shall be poor. 


(Content. — Mrs. Sigourney. 
THINK'ST thou the man whose mansions hold 
The worldling's pomp and miser's gold, 
Obtains a richer prize 
Than he who, in his cot at rest, 
Finds heavenly peace a willing guest, 
And bears the promise in his breast 
Of treasure in the skies? 

(Contentment. — Tucker. 
HTHE Point of Aim for our Vigilance to hold in view, is to dwell 
upon the brightest parts in every prospect, to call off the 
Thoughts when running upon disagreeable Objects, and strive to 
be pleased with the present circumstances surrounding us. 

(Contentment.— Cotton. 

T'HERE can be no doubt that the seat of perfect Contentment is 
in the Head ; for every individual is thoroughly satisfied with 
his own proportion of Brains. Socrates was so well aware of this, 
that he would not start as a Teacher of Truth, but. as an Inquirer 
after it. As a teacher, he would have had many disputers, but no 
disciples : he therefore adopted the humbler mode of investigation, 
and instilled his knowledge into others, under the mask of seeking 
information from them. 

Contentment.— Crevitte. 

"\VITHOUT Content, we shall find it almost as difficult to please 
others as ourselves. 

(Conttgut'tl?. — GremUe. 
"IV TEN and Statues that are admired in an elevated Situation, have 
a very different effect upon us when we approach them : the 
first appear less than we imagined them, the last bigger. 

(ContttJUttj). — Cotton. 
CPEAKINGr generally, no man appears great to his Contempo- 
raries, for the same reason that no man is great to his Servants 
— both know too much of him. 

Self (Control. — Cato. 

T THIXK the first Virtue is to restrain the Tongue : he approaches 
nearest to the Gods, who knows how to be silent, even though 
he is in the right. 

Self (Control — Shalcspeare. 
Better conquest never can'st thou make, 
Than arm thy constant and thy nobler Parts 
Against giddy, loose Suggestions. 



(ftOtttrobergg. — Butler. 

TTE could raise Scruples dark and nice, 

And after solve 'em in a trice; 
As if Divinity bad catch'd 
The itch on purpose to be scratch'd. 

(ftontrobctsj;. — coiton. 

^E are more inclined to hate one another for Points on which 
we differ, than to love one another for Points on which we 
agree. The reason perhaps is this; when we find others that agree 
with us, we seldom trouble ourselves to confirm that Agreement; 
but when we chance on those that differ with us, we are zealous 
both to convince, and to convert them. Our Pride is hurt bv the 
Failure, and disappointed Pride engenders Hatred. 

(C01ltrcbcrS|). — Dryden. 
T TELL thee, Mufti, if the world were wise, 

They would not wag one finger in thy quarrels : 
Your Heav'n you promise, but our Earth you covet, 
The Phaetons of mankind, who fire that world 
Which you were sent by preaching but to warm. 

lUltgtiniJS ©MrtrobetSg. — Dryden. 

TS not the Care of Souls a load sufficient? 

Are not your holy stipends paid for this ? 
Were you not bred apart from worldly noise, 
To study Souls, their Cures and their Diseases ? 
The province of the Soul is large enough 
To fill up every cranny of your time, 
And leave you much to answer, if one wretch 
Be damn'd by your neglect. 

(ftOttbetJBatUm, — Addison. 
r^XE would think that the larger the Company is in which we are 
engaged, the greater variety of Thoughts and Subjects would 
be started into discourse ; but instead of this, we find that Conver- 
sation is never so much straitened and confined as in numerous 

(ftottbetsattwi. — Coiton. 

VyHEN we are in the Company of sensible men, we ought to be 
doubly cautious of talking too much, lest we lose two good 
things, their good opinion, and our own improvement; for what we 
have to say we know, but what they have to say we know not. 

(Tcnbcrsattcm. — Adi&on. 

TN private Conversation between intimate Friends, the wisest men 
very often talk like the weakest ; for indeed the talking with a 
Friend is nothing else but thinking; aloud. 


(ftonbersatum. — La Brut/ere. 
7 THERE is speaking well, speaking easily, speaking justly, and 
speaking seasonably : It is offending against the last, to speak 
of entertainments before the indigent ; of sound limbs and health 
before the infirm ) of houses and lands before one who has not so 
much as a dwelling ; in a word, to speak of your prosperity before 
the miserable ; this Conversation is cruel, and the comparison 
which naturally arises in them betwixt their condition and yours 
is excruciating. 

(ftfJttuerSattOtt. — La Brwjere. 
A MONGST such as out of Cunning hear all and talk little, be 
sure to talk less ; or if you must talk, say little. 

(ftonbersattcm. — Burke. 

r FHE Perfection of Conversation is not to play a regular sonata, 
but, like the iEolian harp, to await the Inspiration of the pass- 
ing breeze. 

(£m\btx$ation. — Johnson. 

pTE only will please long, who by tempering the acidity of Satire 
with the sugar of Civility, and allaying the heat of Wit with 
the frigidity of Humble Chat, can make the true Punch of Conver- 
sation ; and as that punch can be drunk in the greatest quantity 
which has the largest proportion of water, so that Companion will 
be oftenest welcome, whose Talk flows out with unoffensive copi- 
ousness, and unenvied insipidity. 

(Conbcrsatton. — Steele. 

TT is a Secret known but to few, yet of no small use in the con- 
duct of Life, that when you fall into a man's Conversation, the 
first thing you should consider is, whether he has a greater inclina- 
tion to hear you, or that you should hear him. 

(Ctmbersatum. — Sir William Temple. 
TN Conversation, Humour is more than Wit, Easiness more than 
Knowledge j few desire to learn, or to think they need it ; all 
desire to be pleased, or, if not, to be easy. 

(Tonbersation. — coUen. 

gOME men are very entertaiuing for a first Interview, but after 
that they are exhausted, and run out; on a second Meeting we 
shall find them very flat and monotonous : like hand-organs, we 
have heard all their tunes. 

(£onber0at(OTT. — Lamter. 
TTE who sedulously attends, pointedly asks, calmly speaks, coolly 
answers, and ceases when he has no more to say, is in posses- 
sion of some of the best requisites of Man. 





ttonberaatum. — CoUon. 

OME Praters are so full of their own Gabble, and so fond of 
their own Discord, that they would not suspend their eternal 
Monotonies, to hear the Wit of Sheridan, or the Point of Swift; 
one might as well attempt to stop the saw of a task-working stone- 
cutter, by the melodies of an iEoHan harp. Others again there are, 
who hide that Ignorance in silent Gravity that these expose by silly 
Talk ; but they are so coldly correct, and .so methodically dull, that 
any attempt to raise the slumbering sparks of Genius by means of 
such instruments, would be to stir up a languishing fire with a 
] ker of ice. There is a third class, forming a great majority, 
being a heavy compound of the two former, and possessing many 
of the properties peculiar to each; thus they have just Ignorauce 
enough to talk amongst Fools, and just Sense enough to be silent 
amongst Wits. But they have no Vivacity in themselves, nor 
relish for it in another: to attempt to keep up the ball of Conver- 
sation with such partners would be to play a game of Fives against 
a bed of feathers. 

(Tonbr rsation. — Addison. 

AT part of life which we ordinarily understand by the word 
Conversation, is an indulgence to the sociable part of our make ; 
and should incline us to bring our proporti n y:>f good-will or good- 
liiunour among the Friends we meet with, and not to trouble them 
with relations which must of necessity oblige them to a real or 
d affliction. Cares, distresses, diseases, uneasinesses, and dis- 
likes of our own. are by no means to be obtruded upon our Fric 
If we would consider how little of this vicissitude of motion and 
rest, which we call life, is spent with satisfaction, we should be more 
tender of our friends, than to bring them little sorrows which do 
not belong to tlum. There is no real life but cheerful life; there- 
fore valetudinarians should be sworn, before they enter into Com- 
pany, not to say a word of themselves until the meeting breaks up. 

iToiUlfl'SatlOn.— From the French. 
CI PEAK little and well if you wish to be considered as possessing 

(fonluu'sattcm.— FuUer. 

^VEYE1\ contend with one that is foolish, proud, positive, testy; 
"" or with a superior, or a clown, in matter of Argument. 

©onbetsatton. _ Steele. 

r>EAUTY is never so lovely as when adorned with the Smile, 
and Conversation never sits easier upon us than when we now 
and then discharge ourselves in a symphony of Laughter, which 
\i.:.y not improperly be called the Chorus of Conversation. 




(Tonbcrsatum. — Swift. 

"\"OTHIXG is more generally exploded than the folly of talking 
"*" too much ; yet I rarely remember to have seen five people to- 
gether, where some one among them has not been predominant in 
that kind, to the great constraint and disgust of all the rest. But 
among such as deal in Multitudes of Words, none are comparable tc 
the sober deliberate Talker, who proceeds with much thought and 
caution, makes his preface, branches out into several digressions, 
finds a hint that puts him in mind of another Story, which he pro- 
mises to tell you when this is done; comes back regularly to his 
subject, cannot readily call to mind some person's name, holding 
his head, complains of his memory: the whole Company all this 
while is in suspense; at length, he "says it is no matter, and sc 
goes on. And, to crown the business, it perhaps proves at last a 
Story the Company has heard fifty times before. 

(TonuCrSattCm. — Sir William Temple. 
r FHE first ingredient in Conversation is Truth, the next Good 
Sense, the third Good Humour, and the fourth Wit. 

(TonbctSattCtt. — La Rocli»foucauld. 
HP HE extreme pleasure we take in talking of ourselves should 
make us fear that we give very little to those who listen to us. 

(fonbersattcm.— Sir iff. 

ONE of the best Rules in Conversation is, never to say a thing 
which an}- of the Company can reasonably wish we had rather 
left unsaid : nor can there any thing be well more contrary to the 
ends for which people meet together, than to part unsatisfied with 
each other or themselves. 

(ft U b C rs a 1 1 tt . — VoUa ire. 
HTHE secret of tiring is to say every thing that can be said on the 

(Conbcrsatton. — La RociirfoucauU. 

ONE thing which makes us (ind so few people who appear rea- 
sonable and agreeable in Conversation is, that there is scarcely 
any one who does not think more of what he is about to say than of 
answering precisely what is said to him. The cleverest and most 
complaisant people content themselves with merely showing an at- 
tentive Countenance, while we can see in their eyes and mind a 
wandering from what is said to them, and an impatience to return 
to what they wish to say; instead of reflecting that it is a bad 
method of pleasing or persuading others, to be so studious of pleas- 
ing oneself; and that listening well and answering well is one of 
the (ireatest Perfections that can be attained in Conversation. 


(tfonbctsation. — Ooiton. 

1XTHEN" I meet with any that write obscurely, or converse 
confusedly, I am apt to suspect two things ; first, that such 
persons do not understand themselves; and, secondly, that they are 
not worthy of being understood by others. 

(JTonbcrston. — Coiton. 

'THE most zealous Converters are always the most rancorous, 
when they fail of producing Conviction ; but when they succeed, 
they love their new Disciples far better than those whose establish- 
ment in the Faith neither excited their zeal to the combat, nor re- 
warded their prowess with victory. 

(ftonbcrgton.— Goethe. 

A S to the value of Conversions, God alone can judge. God alone 

can know how wide are the steps which the soul has to take 

before it can approach to a Community with him, to the dwelling 

of the Perfect, or to the Intercourse and Friendship of higher 


(ftOltbtbtaittp. — Armstrong. 
"\\THAT dext'rous thousands just within the goal 
Of wild Debauch direct their nightly course ! 
Perhaps no sickly qualms bedim their days, 
No morning admonitions shock the head. 
But ah ! what woes remain ? life rolls apace, 
And that incurable disease, old age, 
In youthful bodies more severely felt, 
More sternly active, shakes their blasted prime. 

(ftOttblbtalttg. — Charles Johnson. 

when we swallow down 
Intoxicating Wine, we drink Damnation ; 
Naked we stand the sport of mocking fiends, 
Who grin to see our noble nature vanquish' d, 
Subdued to beasts. 

Cfje (KoqUCtte. —Joanna Baillie. 
She who only finds her Self-esteem 
In others' Admiration, begs an alms ; 
Depends on others for her daily food, 
And is the very servant of her slaves ; 
Tho' oftentimes, in a fantastic hour, 
O'er men she may a childish pow'r exert, 
Which not ennobles, but degrades her state. 

(Kotruptctf CalCttt. — ShaJcspeare. 
THE gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare Speaker, 
To nature none more bound ; his Training such, 


That he may furnish and instruct great teachers, 

And never seek for aid out of himself. 

Yet see, 

When these so noble benefits shall prove 

Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt, 

They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly 

Than ever they were fair. 

(fcomtptimt. —Burke. 
'THE age unquestionably produces, (whether in a greater or less 
number than in former times, I know not,) daring Profligates 
and insidious Hypocrites. What then ? Am I not to avail myself 
of whatever good is to be found in the world, because of the mix- 
ture of evil that will always be in it? The smallnesa of the quan- 
tity in currency only heightens the value. 

(Corruption. — Shakspeare. 
(") THAT estates, degrees and offices 

Were not derived corruptly ! and that clear Honour 
Were purchased by the Merit of the wearer ! 
How many then should cover, that stand bare! 
How many be commanded, that command ! 
How much low peasantry would then be gleau'd 
From the true seed of honour ! And how much Honour 
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, 
To be new garnish' d ! 

(Corruption.— Coiton. 

A TEX, by associating in large masses, as in camps, and in cities, 
improve their Talents, but impair their Virtues, an 1 strengthen 
their Minds, but weaken their Morals; thus a retrocession in the 
one, is too often the price they pay for a refinement in the other. 

(Corruption. — Shakspeare. 
HTHEY that have power to hurt and will do none, 

That do not do the thing they most do show, 
Who, moving others, are themselves of stone, 

Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow; 
They rightly do inherit Heav'n's graces, 

And husband Nature's riches from expense ; 
They are the lords and owners of their faces, 

Others but stewards of their excellence. 
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, 

Though to itself it only live and die; 
But if that flower with base Infection meet, 

The basest weed outbraves his dignity; 
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; 
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. 


OTomipticm. — Shakspeare. 

TF that the Heavens do not their visible spirits 
Send quickly down to tame these vile Offences, 
' Twill come, 

Humanity must perforce prey on itself, 
Like monsters of the deep. 

OtoUttSeL — Fuller. 
Good Counsels observed are chains to grace. 

(EOUmtL — Seneca. 
/CONSULT your Friend on all things, especially on those which 
respect yourself. His Counsel may then be useful, where your 
own self-love might impair your Judgment. 

(EOUnCtL— Shdkspeare. 
T ET our Alliance be combined, 

Our best Friends made, and our best Means stretch'd out; 
And let us presently go sit in Council, 
How covert matters may be best disclosed, 
And open perils surest answer'd. 

(ftOUtttrg*— MaUeck. 

They love their land because it is their own, 
And scorn to give aught other reason why. 

3H)e (ftountrp.— miton. 

J^ WILDERNESS of sweets; for Nature here 

Wanton' d as in her prime, and play'd at will 
Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet, 
Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss. 

(ftCimttg Htfe. — Milton. 

Wisdom's self 
Oft seeks so sweet retired Solitude; 
Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, 
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings, 
That in the various bustle of Resort 
Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. 

(ftOUtttrj) Utfe. — Cowper. 
TTOW various his employments, whom the world 

Calls idle, and who justly in return 
Esteems that busy world an idler too ! 
Friends, books, a Garden, and perhaps his pen, 
Delightful industry enjoyed at home, 
And Nature in her cultivated trim, 
Dress' d to his taste, inviting him abroad. 


(ftOUtttrj) Utfe. — Thomson. 

Now from the town 
Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps, 
Oft let me wander o'er the dewy Fields, 
Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops 
From the bent Bush, as through the verdant Maze 
Of Sweet-brier Hedges I pursue my walk. 

(Eountq) ?Ltfe. — Cowper. 

''TIS pleasant through the loop-holes of Retreat,. 

To peep at such a world. 
To see the stir of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd. 
To hear the roar she sends through all her gates, 
At a safe distance, where the dying sound 
Falls a soft murmur oil th' uninjur'd car. 

<£0lUtttg Hit.— Cowper. 
T'HEY love the Country, and none else, who seek 

For their own sake its Silence and its Shade: 
Delights which who would leave that has a heart 
Susceptible of pity, or a mind 
Cultured and capable of sober thought. 

(ftmmttj) Etfe. — Coteper. 
CtOD made the Country, and man made the Town. 
What wonder, then, that health and virtue, gifts 
That can alone make sweet the bitter draught 
That life holds out to all, should most abound 
And least be threatened in the Fields and Groves. 

(Eoimttj) Hlft.— Cowper. 
(~)H for a Lodge in some vast Wilderness, 

Some boundless Contiguity of Shade, 
Where rumour of oppression and deceit, 
Of unsuccessful and successful war 
Might never reach me more ! My car is paiu'd, 
My soul is sick with every day's report 
Of wrong and outrage with which earth is fiU'd. 

(County ?itfC. — Cowper. 
r THE spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns; 
The low'ring eye, the petulance, the frown, 
And sullen sadness that o'ershade, distort, 
And mar the face of beauty, when no cause 
For such immeasurable wo appears, 
These Flora banishes, and gives the fair 
Sweet smiles and bloom less transient than her own. 


(tfOUltfCg 1L\U. — Thomson. 
HTIIRICE happy he ! who on the sunless side 

Of a romantic Mountain, Forest ccown'd, 
Beueath the whole collected Shade reclines ; 
Or in the gelid Caverns, Wood-bine wrought, 
And fresh bedew'd with ever-spouting Streams, 
Sits coolly calm ; while all the world without, 
Unsatisfy'd, and sick, tosses at noon. 
Emblem instructive of the virtuous man, 
Who keeps his temper' d mind serene, and pure, 
And every passion aptly harmoniz'd, 
Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd. 

(ftomttl'g ILUz. — Peter Pindar. 
'THERE Health, so wild and gay, with bosom bare, 

And rosy cheek, keen eye, and flowing hair, 
Trips with a smile the breezy Scene along, 
And pours the spirit of Content in song. 

(ftOUttttg 3LtfC — Thomson. 
TTERE too dwells simple Truth; plain Innocence; 

Unsullied Beauty ; sound unbroken Youth, 
Patient of labour, with a little pleas'd ; 
Health ever blooming; unambitious Toil: 
Calm Contemplation, and poetic Ease. 

(KOUnttg TLttz. — Thomson. 
(")H knew he but his happiness, of men 

The happiest he ! who far from public rage, 
Deep in the Vale, with a choice few retired, 
. Drinks the pure pleasures of the Rural Life. 

<£nUUtrj) UtfC. — Thomson. 
T3ERHAPS thy loved Lucinda shares thy Walk, 
With soul to thine attuned. Then Nature all 
Wears to the lover's eye a look of love ; 
And all the tumult of a guilty world, 
Toss'd by ungenerous passions, sinks away. 

(Courage. — Shakspeare. 
T DO not think a Braver Gentleman, 

More active valiant, or more valiant-young, 
More daring, or more bold, is now alive, 
To grace this latter age with noble deeds. 

(ftMirage. — Byron. 

A real Spirit 
Should neither court neglect, nor dread to bear it. 


©OUtage. — Ben Jonson. 


Ought not to undergo or tempt a danger, 
But worthily, and by selected ways, 
He undertakes by reason, not by chance. 
His Valour is the salt t' his other virtues, 
They're all unseason'd without it. 

©Outage. — Joanna Baillie. 
'THE Brave Man is not he who feels no fear, 

For that were stupid and irrational ; 
But he, whose noble Soul its Fear subdues, 
And bravely dares the Danger nature shrinks from. 
As for your youth, whom blood and blows delight, 
Away with them ! there is not in their crew 
One valiant Spirit. 

©OUCage. — Shahspeare. 

Come all to ruin ; 
Let thy mother rather feel thy Pride, than fear 
Thy dangerous Stoutness; fori mock at death, 
With a big Heart as thou. Do as thou list. 
Thy Valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me; 
But owe thy Pride thyself. 

©outage. — Cotton. 

PHYSICAL Courage, which despises all dangor, will make a man 
brave in one way; and Moral Courage, which despises all 
opinion, will make a man brave in another. The former would 
seem most necessary for the camp, the latter for council ; but to 
constitute a great man, both are necessary. 

©OUtage. — Shaftesbury. 
'TRUE Courage is cool and calm. The bravest of men have the 
least of a brutal bullying insolence; and in the very time of 
danger are found the most serene and free. Rage, we know, can 
make a coward forget himself and fight. But what is done in fury 
or anger can never be placed to the account of Courage. 

©OUtage. — JDryden. 
AN intrepid Courage is at best but a holiday-kind of virtue, to 
be seldom exercised, and never but in cases of necessity : af- 
fability, mildness, tenderness, and a word which I would fain bring 
back to its original signification of virtue, I mean good-nature, are 
of daily use; they are the bread of mankind, and staff of life. 

©OUtage*— GreuilU. 

ATOST men have more Courage than even they themselves think 
they have. 


(£0Utafie. — Shakspeare. 

He bore him in the thickest troop, 
As doth a Lion in a herd of Neat : 
Or as a Bear, encompass'd round with Dogs ; 
Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry, 
The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. 

(^Outage. — Shakspeare. 

He stopp'd the fliers ; 
And, by his rare example, made the coward 
Turn Terror into Sport ; as waves before 
A vessel under sail, so men obey'd, 
And fell below his stem. 

CfjC (EtiUtU — LaBruyere. 
'THE Court does not render a man contented, but it prevents his 
being so elsewhere. 

Clje (£$\lXt— Burke. 

TT is of great importance (provided the thing is not over done) to 
contrive such an establishment as must, almost whether a Prince 
will or not, bring into daily and hourly oflices about his person, a 
great number of his first Nobility; and it is rather an useful pre- 
judice that gives them pride in such a servitude. Though they are 
not much the better for a Court, a Court will be much the better 
for them. 

<#0Urt 3JcalOUS;!)- — Shakspeare. 

No simple man that sees 
This jarring Discord of Nobility, 
This should'ring of each other in the Court, 
This factious bandying of their Favourites, 
But that it doth presage some ill event. 
'Tis much, when sceptres are in children's hands; 
But more, when envy breeds unkind division ; 
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. 

<£0Utteg£. — Shakspeare. 

°> . 

Dissembling Courtesy ! how fine this tyrant 

Can tickle where she wounds ! 

Cf)e OTourtter Dryden. 

See how he sets his Countenance for Deceit, 
And promises a Lie before he speaks. 

(ftmtCtSijtp. — Shakspeare. 
Win her with Gifts, if she respect not Words; 
Dumb Jewels often, in their silent kind, 
More quick than Words, do move a Woman's Mind. 


<£mirt!5f)tp. — Shakspeare. 

'THOU Hast by moon-light at her window sung, 
With feigning voice, verses of feigning Love ; 
And stol'n the impression of her fantasy 
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gauds, conceits, 
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweet-meats j messengers 
Of strong prevail ment in unharden'd youth. 

(£0Utt!5f) tp. — Shakspeare. 
gAY, that she rail; Why, then I'll tell her plain, 

She sings as sweetly as a nightingale : 
Say, that she frown : I'll say, she looks as clear 
As morning roses newly wash'd with dew : 
Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word ; 
Then I'll commend her volubility, 
And say — she uttereth piercing eloquence. 
If she do frown 'tis not in hate of you, 
But rather to beget more love in you : 
If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone ; 
For why, the fools are mad if left alone. 
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; 
For, (jet you [/one, she doth not mean, away. 

(Courtsijip.— Blair. 

r\H, then the longest summer's day 

Seem'd too, too much in haste : still the full Heart 
Had not imparted half: 'twas Happiness 
Too exquisite to last. Of joys departed, 
Not to return, how painful the remembrance ! 

(Tourtsijtp. — Hiii. 

With Women worth the being won, 
The softest Lover ever best succeeds. 

&0tttt8jifl. — Thomson. 

f^OME then, ye virgins and ye youths, whose Hearts 

Have felt the raptures of refining Love ; 
And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my soug ! 
Forni'd by the Graces, Loveliness itself 1 
Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet, 
Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul, 
Where with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd, 
Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart : 
Oh come ! and while the rosy-footed May 
Steals blushing on, together let us tread 
The morning dews and gather in their prime 
Fresh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair, 
And thy lov'd bosom that improves their sweets. 


<£0UrtSf)tp. — Sliakspeare. 
ft AY, that upon the altar of her Beauty 

You sacrifice your Tears, your Sighs, your Heart : 
Write, till your ink be dry j and with your tears 
Moist it again; and frame some feeling line, 
That may discover such integrity. 

(CoUttSfjip. — Shakspeare. 

Women are angels wooing: 
Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing: 
That she belov'd knows nought, that knows not this, — 
Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is. 

(Courts!) tp. — Shakspeare. 
TIT'HY should you think that I should woo in scorn? 

Scorn and derision never come in tears? 
Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, 
In their nativity all truth appears. 

<£abetOUStte00* — South. 

'THE Covetous Person lives as if the world were made altogether 
for him, and not he for the world; to take in every thing, and 
part with nothing. 

(Cobctousncss. — baton. 

A FTER Hypocrites, the greatest dupes the Devil has are those 
who exhaust an anxious existence in the Disappointments and 
Vexations of Business, and live miserably and meanly only to die 
magnificently and rich. For, like the Hypocrites, the only disin- 
terested action these men can accuse themselves of is, that of serv- 
ing the Devil, without receiving his wages: he that stands every 
day of his life behind a counter, until he drops from it into the 
grave, may negotiate many very profitable bargains; but he has 
made a single bad one, so bad indeed, that it counterbalances all 
the rest ; for the empty foolery of dying rich, he has paid down his 
health, his happiness, and his integrity. 

(CobetOUSneSS. — Burton. 
f^OVETOUS men are fools, miserable wretches, buzzards, mad- 
men, who live by themselves, in perpetual slavery, fear, suspi- 
cion, sorrow, discontent, with more of gall than honey in their 
enjoyments; who are rather possessed by their Money than Pos- 
sessors of it; mancipati pecunits, bound 'prentices to their property; 
and, servi divitiarum, mean slaves and drudges to their Substance. 

(Cobetousncss.— F. Osbom. 

QOYETOUSNESS, like a candle ill made, smothers the splendour 
of a happy fortune in its own grease. 


(SobetOUSnCSS* — Shakspeare. 
Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea. 

1 st Fisherman : 
Why as men do a-land: the great ones eat up the little ones. I 
can compare our rich Misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale; 'a 
plays and tumbles, driving the poor fry before him and at last 
devours them all at a mouthful. Such whales have I heard on the 
land, who never leave gaping, till they've swallowed the whole 
parish, church, steeple, bells, and al^. 

(ftobetOUStteSS. — Shakspeare. 
When workmen strive to do better than well, 
They do confound their skill in Covetousness. 

(ftutoaru'tCe. — Shakspeare. 
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, 
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard. 

W§t CtaCOtttu. — Shakspeare. 
lDUT, I remember, when the fight was done, 

When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, 
Breathless, and faint, leaning upon my sword, 
Came there a certain Lord, neat, trimly dress'd : 
Fresh as a Bridegroom, and his chin, new reap'd, 
Show'd like a stubble land at harvest home. 
He was perfumed like a Milliner; 
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he held 
A pouncet box, which ever and anon 
He gave his nose : and still he smiled and talk'd ; 
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 
He call'd them — untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corpse 
Betwixt the wind and his Nobility. 

(£reeK — Coiton. 

TTE that will believe only what he can fully comprehend, must 
have a very long head, or a very short Creed. 

<£rceu\ — Colton. 
1 N Politics, as in Religion, it so happens that we have less charity 
for those who believe the half of our Creed, than for those that 
deny the whole of it, since if Servetus had been a Mohammedan, 
he would not have been burnt by Calvin. 

(Ert&Ulttg, — Colton. 
THE Testimony of those who doubt the least, is, not unusually, 
that very Testimony that ought most to be doubted. 


(£retfUlttj)- — Sir Philip Sidney. 
The only disadvantage of an honest heart is Credulity. 

(tftetmlttj). — Coiton. 

TT is a curious paradox, that precisely in proportion to our own 
intellectual weakness, will be our Credulity as to those mys- 
terious powers assumed by others; and in those regions of dark- 
ness and ignorance where man cannot effect even those things that 
are within the power of man, there we shall ever find that a blind 
belief in feats that are far beyond those powers, has taken the 
deepest root in the minds of the deceived, and produced the richest 
harvest to the knavery of the deceiver. An impostor that would 
starve in Edinburgh, might luxuriate in his Gynseceum at Con- 
stantinople. But the more we know as to those things that can 
be done, the more skeptical do we become as to all things that 

<£ufrUlttg* — From the French. 
r pHE common people are to be caught by the ears as one catches 
a pot by the handle. 

(f£rittt0. — La Rochefoucauld. 
~pOR the credit of Virtue it must be admitted that the greatest 
evils which befall mankind are caused by their Crimes. 

(KrittCtSTTL — Washington Irving. 
HTHERE is a certain meddlesome spirit, which, in the garb of 
learned research, goes prying about the traces of history, casting 
down its monuments, and marring and mutilating its fairest trophies. 
Care should be taken to vindicate great names from such pernicious 

<&rittC&— Aiken. 

TTE whose first emotion, on the view of an excellent production, is 
to undervalue it, will never have one of his own to show. 

(KntiCS* — Washington Irving. 
(CRITICS are a kind of Freebooters in the republic of Letters — 
who, like deer, goats, and divers other graminivorous animals, 
gain subsistence by gorging upon buds and leaves of the young 
shrubs of the forest, thereby robbing them of their verdure, and 
retarding their progress to maturity. 

(£rittCJ3. — Longfellow. 
(CRITICS are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at 
the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new 


Oftotott.— HaUeck* 

"pMPIRES to-day are upside down, 

The castle kneels before the town, 
The monarch fears a pri liter's frown, 

A brickbat's range ; 
Give me, in preference to a crown, 
Five shillings change. 

<&\mmn$.— Brut/ere. 

QUNNING is none of the best nor worst qualities : it floats be- 
tween Virtue and Vice : there is scarce any exigence where it 
may not, and perhaps ought not to be supplied by Prudence. 

(Eunntnfl. —Lord GreviUe. 
"THE common Contrivances of Cunning put me in mind of the 
preservative instinct I have sometimes observed in Beasts, 
which lay a plot that is extremely artful and well concealed in 
many parts, but at the same time left so open in some one that it 
is perfectly easy for superior intelligence to see and understand 
the whole complication of the contrivance. 

Running. — Piato. 

JTNOWLEDGE without Justice ought to be called Cunning 
rather than Wisdom. 

(Sunning. —La Bruyere. 
QUNNTNG leads to Knavery ; it is but a step from one to the 
other, and that very slippery; Lying only makes the differ- 
ence : add that to Cunning, and it is Knavery. 

(Sunning.— Coiton. 

TAKING things not as they ought to be, but as they are, I fear 
it must be allowed that Machiavelli will always have more 
disciples than Jesus. Out of the millions who have studied and 
even admired the precepts of the Nazarite, how few are there that 
have reduced them to practice. But there are numbers numberless 
who throughout the whole of their lives have been practising the 
principles of the Italian, without having even heard of his name; 
who cordially believe with him that the tongue was given us to 
discover the thoughts of others, and to conceal our own. 

Cunning.— Goldsmith. 
THE bounds of a man's knowledge are easily concealed, if he has 
but prudence. 

(Sunning. — La Rochefoucauld, 
'JHE most sure method of subjecting yourself to be deceived, is 
to consider yourself more Cunning than others. 


dunning. — Lord Greville. 
Y\HE should do by our Cunning as we do by our Courage, — always 
have it ready to defend ourselves, never to offend others. 

dunning. — Lord Bacon. 
TVTIS take Cunning for a sinister or crooked wisdom, and certainly 
there is a great difference between a Cunning Man and a wise 
man, not only in point of honesty but in point of ability. 

dunning. — Coiton. 

TTURRY and Cunning are the two apprentices of Dispatch and 
of Skill ; but neither of them ever learn their masters' trade. 

dunning. — Addison. 
r^UNNINGr has only private selfish aims, and sticks at nothing 
which may make them succeed. Discretion has large and ex- 
tended views, and, like a well-formed eye, commands a whole 
horizon ; Cunning is a kind of short-sightedness, that discovers the 
minutest objects which are near at hand, but is not able to discern 
things at a distance. Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives 
a greater authority to the person who possesses it. Discretion is 
the perfection of Reason, and a guide to us in all the duties of life : 
Cunning is a kind of Instinct, that only looks out after our imme- 
diate interest and welfare. Discretion is only found in men of 
strong sense and good understandings : Cunning is often to be met 
with in brutes themselves, and in persons who are but the fewest 
removes from them. In short, Cunning is only the mimic of Dis- 
cretion, and may pass upon weak men, in the same manner as 
Vivacity is often mistaken for Wit, and Gravity for Wisdom. 

dunning. — steme. 

r rHE paths of Virtue are plain and straight, so that the blind, 
persons of the meanest capacity, shall not err. Dishonesty re- 
quires skill to conduct it, and as great art to conceal — what 'tis 
every one's interest to detect. And I think I need not remind you 
how often it happens in attempts of this kind — where worldly men, 
in haste to be rich, have overrun the only means to it, — and for 
want of laying their contrivances with proper Cunning, or manag- 
ing them with proper Secrecy and Advantage, have lost for ever 
what they might have certainly secured with Honesty and Plain- 

dUt0C£. — Shdkspeare. 
T^EED not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, 

Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav'nous sense : 
But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, 
And heavy gaited toads, lie in their way. 


(fttustoim— max. 

Custom forms us all; 
Our thoughts, our morals, our most fiVd belief, 
Are consequences of our place of birth. 

(EujStom. — Rabelais. 
C^AN there be any greater dotage in the world, than for one tc 
guide and direct his Courses by the sound of a bell, and not by 
his own judgment and discretion. 

©UStOm. — Cowper. 
To follow foolish Precedents, and wink 
"With both our eyes, is easier than to think. 

(ftUStom. — Colton. 
V^THEN all moves equally (says Pascal) nothing seems to move, 
as in a vessel under sail; and when all run by common con- 
sent into vice, none appear to do so. He that stops first, views as 
from a fixed point the horrible extravagance that transports the 

<£u0tCm\ — Shakspeare. 
New Customs, 
Though they be never so ridiculous, 
Nay let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd. 

Btatf). — Steele. 
A LL that nature has prescribed must be good ; and as Death is 
natural to us, it is absurdity to fear it. Fear loses its purpose 
when we are sure it cannot preserve us, and we should draw reso- 
lution to meet it, from the impossibility to escape it. 

SeatJK — La Rochefoucauld. 
Neither the sun nor Death can be looked at steadily. 

2Beatf).- -Coium. 

'THE hand that unnerved Belshazzar derived its most horrifying 
influence from the want of a hod//; and Death itself is not 
formidable in what we do know of it, but in what we do not. 

BeatJ- — Martial. 
VOU should not fear, nor yet should you wish for your Last 
X Day. 

Beat?), — Pascal. 
"T)EATH itself is less painful when it comes upon us unawares, 
than the bare contemplation of it, even when danger is far 



Bcafy. — S/iakspeare. 
The tongues of dying Men 
Enforce attention like deep harmony; 
Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain, 
For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. 
He, that no more must say, is listened more 
Than they, whom youth and ease have taught to glose; 
More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before : 
The setting sun, and music at the close, 
As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; 
Writ in remembrance, more than things long past. 

Beat!)* — Shakspeare. 

Death is a fearful thing, 
And shamed life a hateful. 
To die, and go we know not where ; 
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot; 
This sensible warm motion to become 
A kneaded Clod; and the delighted Spirit 
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
In thrilling regions of thick-ribb'd ice; 
To be impiison'd in the viewless winds, 
And blown with restless violence round about 
The pendant world, or to be worse than worst 
Of those, that lawless and uncertain thoughts 
Imagine howling! — 'tis too horrible! 
The weariest and most loathed worldly life, 
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment, 
Can lay on Nature, is a paradise 
To what we fear of Death. 

10 eat {)♦ — Shakspeare. 
Nothing can we call our own, but Death ; 
And that small model of the barren earth, 
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 

l^Catf)* — Metastasio. 
I T is by no means a fact, that Death is the worst of all evils ; 
when it comes, it is an alleviation to mortals who are worn out 
with sufferings. 

Heat f). — Shakspeare, 
nnO what base uses we may return ! Why may not imagination 
trace the noble dust of Alexander, till it find it stopping a bung- 
hole ? As thus, Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander 
rcturneth to dust; the dust is earth : of earth we make loam : And 
why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a 
beer barrel 1 


~F)EATH is the Liberator of him whom freedom cannot release, 
the Physician of him whom medicine cannot cure, and the Com- 
forter of him whom time cannot console. 

I3e<Jtf). — Shakspeare. 
For within the hollow crown, 
That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 
Keeps Death his court ; and there the Antick sits 
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp; 
Allowing him a breath, a little scene 
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks ; 
Infusing him with self and vain conceit, 
As if this flesh, which walls about our life, 
Were brass impregnable : and, humour'd thus, 
Comes at the last, and with a little pin 
Bores through his castle-walls, and farewell King ! 

£3 catf). — Shakspeare. 
OH my love, my wife ! 

Death, that hath suckt the honey of thy breath, 
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty : 
Thou art not conquer'd ; beauty's eusign yet 
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, 
And Death's pale flag is not advanced there. 
Why art thou yet so fair ? shall I believe, 
That unsubstantial Death is amorous, 
And that the lean abhorr'd Monster keeps 
Thee here in dark, to be his paramour ? 

Qcatf). — Shakspeare. 
Death lies on her, like an uutimely frost 
Upon the sweetest flow'r of all the field. 

Ocatf). — Shakspeare. 
OH, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel ; 

The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs ; 
And now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men, 
In undetermined differences of kings. 

Scatj). — Shakspeare. 
~J^"OW boast thee, Death, in thy possession lies 

A lass unparallel'd. Downy windows close ; 

And golden Phoebus never be beheld 
Of eyes again so royal ! 

Deatf). — Shakspeare. 
Mount, mount, my Soul ! thy seat is up on high ; 
Whilst my gross Flesh sinks downward here to die. 



mtafy. — ShaJcspeare. 
Full of repentance, 
Continual meditations, tears and sorrows, 
He gave his honours to the world again, 
His blessed part to Heaven, and slept in peace. 

iBeatf), — Shdkspeare. 
TTAVE I not hideous Death within rny view ? 

' Retaining but a quantity of life, 
Which bleeds away, ev'n as a form of wax 
Resolveth from its figure 'gainst the fire ? 
What in the world should make me now deceive, 
Since I must lose the use of all deceit ? 
Why should I then be false, since it is true, 
That I must die here, and live hence by truth ? 

Seatf). — Shdkspeare. 
Nothing in his life 
Became him like the leaving it. He died, 
As one that had been studied in his Death, 
To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd, 
As 'twere a careless trifle. 

IBeatf). — Slidkspeare. 
TT is too late j the life of all his blood 

Is touch' d corruptibly; and his pure brain, 
(Which some suppose, the soul's frail dwelling-house,) 
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, 
Foretell the ending of Mortality. 

Heatf). — Shdkspeare. 

Oh, amiable lovely Death ! 
Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness ! 
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, 
Thou hate and terror to prosperity, 
And I will kiss thy detestable bones j 
And ring these fingers with thy household worms ; 
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, 
And be a carrion Monster like thyself : 
Come, grin on me ; and I will think thou smil'st, 
And buss thee as thy wife ! Mercy's love, 
Oh come to me ! 

J3eati). — Shdkspeare. 
If thou and nature can so gently part, 
The stroke of Death is as a lover's pinch, 
Which hurts, and is desir'd. 


Scat!). — Shakspeare. 


Being an ugly Monster, 

'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, 
Sweet words : or hath more ministers than we 
That draw his knives i' the war. 

Scat!). — Shakspeare. 

To die, — to sleep, — 
No more ; — and, by a sleep, to say we end 
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wish'd. 

Dcatij. — Shakspeare. 
T)0 not, for ever, with thy veiled lids 

Seek for thy noble father in the dust : 
Thou know'st, 'tis common; all, that live, must die, 
Passing through Nature to Eternity. 

Dcatf). — Shakspeare. 
"pOR who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 
The insoleuce of office, and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
When he himself might his quietus make 
With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, 
To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; 
But that the dread of something after Death, — 
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn 
No traveller returns, puzzles the will; 
And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
Than fly to others that we know not of? 

Scatf)* — Shakspeare. 
I AM a tainted wether of the flock, 
Meetest for Death : the weakest kind of fruit 
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me. 

Deatf). — Shakspeare. 
MIGHTY Caesar! dost thou lie so low? 

Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, 
Shrunk to this little measure ? 
But yesterday the word of Cresar might 
Have stood against the world : now lies he there, 
And none so poor to do him reverence. 


IBt&tl). — Shakspeare. 

Lay her i' the earth ; — 
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh 
May violets spring ! I tell thee, churlish priest, 
A ministering angel shall my sister be, 
When thou liest howling. 

Sfcatf)* — Young. 

X1THEN down thy vale unlock'd by midnight thought 

That loves to wander in thy sunless realms, 
Death ! I stretch my view ; what visions rise ! 
What triumphs ! toils imperial ! arts divine ! 
In wither' d laurels glide before my sight ! 
What lengths of far-famed ages, billow'd high 
With human agitation, roll along 
In unsubstantial images of air ! 
The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, 
Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause 
With penitential aspect, as they pass, 
All point at earth, and hiss al human pride, 
The wisdom of the wise, and prancings of the great. 

2&Z&t f). — Shakspeare. 
'THE sense of Death is most in apprehension ; 

And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, 
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great 
As when a giant dies. 

Heat?). — Shakspeare. 
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, 
Here grow no damned grudges ; here are no storms, 
No noise, but Silence and Eternal Sleep. 

IBMtl). — Shakspeare. 
HOWARDS die many times before their Deaths; 

The valiant never taste of Death but once. 
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, 
It seems to me most strange that men should fear; 
Seeing that Death, a necessary end, 
Will come, when it will come. 


great Man-eater ! 
Whose every day is Carnival, not sated yet ! 
Unheard of Epicure ! without a fellow ! 
The veriest gluttons do not always cram; 
Some intervals of abstinence are sought 
To edge the appetite; thou scekest none. 


23eati)* — Shakspeare. 
That life is better Life, past fearing Death, 
Than that which lives to fear. 

Deatj)* — Southey. 
T)EATH ! to the happy thou art terrible, 

But how the wretched love to think of thee ! 
thou true comforter, the friend of all 
Who have no friend beside. 

Beatf). — Young. 
"PARLY, bright, transient, 
Chaste as morning dew, 
She sparkled, was exhaled, 
And went to Heaven. 

1" FEEL Death rising higher still and higher 

Within my bosom ) every breath I fetch 
Shuts up my life within a shorter compass : 
And, like the vanishing sound of bells, grows less 
And less each pulse, till it be lost in air. 

29eatj.— Byron. 

Death, so called, is a thing that makes men weep, 
And yet a third of life is pass'd in sleep. 

SJeattf).— Blair. 

TTOW shocking must thy summons be, Death ! 

To him that is at ease in his possessions; 
Who, counting on long years of pleasure here, 
Is quite unfurnish'd for that world to come ! 
In that dread moment, how the frantic soul 
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement, 
Runs to each avenue, and shrieks for help, 
But shrieks in vain ! 

Beat!). — Young. 
Death is the crown of life : 
Were Death denied, poor men would live in vain ; 
Were Death denied, to live would not be life ; 
Were Death denied, even fools would wish to die. 

Beatf). — Byron. 
£JAN this be Death ? there's bloom upon her cheek ; 

But now I see it is no living hue, 
But a strange hectic — like the unnatural red 
Which Autumn plants upon the perish'd leaf. 
It is the same ! Oh, God ! that I should dread 
To look upon the same. 


Dtat\). — Youn<j. 
"WH Y start at Death ? Where is he ? Death arrived, 

Is past; not come, or gone, he's never here. 
Ere hope, sensation fails ; black-boding man 
Receives, not suffers, Death's tremendous blow. 
The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave; 
The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm ; 
These are the bugbears of a winter's eve, 
The terrors of the living, not the dead. 
Imagination's fool, and error's wretch, 
Man maizes a Death which Nature never made ; 
Then on the point of his own fancy falls ; 
And feels a thousand Deaths in fearing one. 

Deatft*— Young. 

"I^ACH friend by Fate snatch'd from us, is a plume 

Pluckt from the wing of human vanity, 
Which makes us stoop from our aerial heights, 
And, dampt with omen of our own disease, 
On drooping pinions of ambition lower'd, 
Just skim earth's surface, ere we break it up, 
O'er putrid earth to scratch a little dust, 
And save the world a nuisance. 

©eatf). — Mrs. Tighe. 
C\ THOU most terrible, most dreaded Power, 
In whatsoever form thou meetest the eye ! 

Whether thou biddest thy sudden arrow fly 
In the dread silence of the midnight hour; 
Or whether, hovering o'er the lingering wretch, 

Thy sad cold javelin hangs suspended long, 

While round the couch the weeping Kindred throng. 
With Hope and Fear alternately on stretch ; 
Oh say, for me what horrors are prepared ? 

Am I now doom'd to meet thy fatal arm ? 

Or wilt thou first from life steal every charm, 
And bear away each good my soul would guard ? 

That thus, deprived of all it loved, my heart 

From life itself contentedly may part. 

BtZti). — Campbell 
^OON may this fluttering spark of vital flame 

Forsake its languid melancholy frame ! 
Soon may these eyes their trembling lustre close, 
Welcome the dreamless night of long Repose ! 
Soon may this wo worn spirit seek the bourn 
Where, lull'd to slumber, Grief forgets to mourn ! 


jDcatf).— Byron. 
A SLEEP without dreams, after a rough day 
Of toil, is what we covet most; and yet 
How clay shrinks back from more quiescent clay. 

IBeatj,— Byron. 

"T\rHOM the gods love die young" was said of yore, 

And many Deaths do they escape by this : 
The Death of Friends, and that which slays even more, 

The Death of Friendship, Love, Youth, all that is, 
Except mere breath ; and since the silent Shore 
Awaits at last even those whom longest miss 
The old Archer's shafts, perhaps the early Grave 
Which men weep over may be meant to save. 

Oeatf) Johnson. 

TN Life's last Scene what prodigies surprise, 
Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise ? 
From Marlb'rough'seyes the streams of dotage flow, 
And Swift expires a driv'ler and a show. 

Beatf)*— Dry den. 
Oh ! that I less could fear to lose this being ! 
Which, like a snow-ball in my coward hand, 
The more 'tis grasp'd, the faster melts away. 

Deatf).— Webster. 

(~\XE may live as a conqueror, a king, or a magistrate; but he 
must die as a man. The bed of death brings every human 
being to his pure individuality; to the intense contemplation of 
that deepest and most solemn of all relations, the relation between 
the creature and his Creator. Here it is that fame and renown 
cannot assist us ; that all external things must fail to aid us; that 
even friends, affection, and human love and devotedness, cannot 
succour us. 

Dcatij tntf)C OtOUttttg,— Paulding. 
nTHERE is to my mind and to my early recollections, something ex- 
quisitely touching in the tolling of a church-bell amid the silence 
of the country. It communicates for miles around the message of 
mortality. The ploughman stops his horse to listen to the solemn 
tidings; the housewife remits her domestic occupations, and sits 
with the needle idle in her fingers, to ponder who it is that is going 
to the long home; and even the little, thoughtless children, play- 
ing and laughing their way from school, are arrested for a moment 
in their evening gambols by these sounds of melancholy import, aiid 
cover their heads when they go to rest. 



Dcatf) Of QVWXlte.— Fisher Ames. 
TT is not by destroying tyrants that we are to extinguish tyranny; 
nature is not thus to be exhausted of her power to produce 
them. The soil of a republic sprouts with the rankest fertility; it 
has been sown with dragon's teeth. To lessen the hopes of usurp- 
ing demagogues, we must enlighten, animate, and combine the 
spirit of freemen ; we must fortify and guard the constitutional 
ramparts about liberty. When its friends become indolent or dis- 
heartened, it is no longer of any importance how long-lived are its 
enemies: they will prove immortal. 

Mtatf).— Bryant. 
CO live, that, when thy summons comes to join 

The innumerable caravan, that moves 
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon ; but sustain'd and sooth'd 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, 
Like one that draws the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 

Befot Franklin. 

/CREDITORS have better memories than Debtors ; and Creditors 
are a superstitious sect, great observers of set days and times. 

Btlt — Sir M. Hale. 
"DUN not into Debt, either for wares sold, or money borrowed; 
be content to want things that are not of absolute necessity, 
rather than to run up the score. 

HBeut, — Chesterfield. 
A MAN who owes a little can clear it off in a very little time, 
and, if he is a prudent man, he will : whereas a man, who, by 
long negligence, owes a great deal, despairs of ever being able to 
pay, and therefore never looks into his accounts at all. 

MM.— Franklin. 
T'HINK — think what you do when you run in debt; you give to 
another power over your liberty. If you cannot pay at the time, 
you will be ashamed to see your creditor ; you will be in fear when 
you speak to him; you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, 
and by degrees come to lose your veracity, and sink into base, 
downright lying ; for the second vice is lying, the first is running in 
debt, as Poor Richard says ; and again, to the same purpose, Lying 
rides upon Debt's back; whereas a freeboru Englishman ought not 
to be ashamed nor afraid to see or speak to any man living. But 
poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. It is hard 
for an empty bag to stand upright. 


IBtM Franklin. 

Tt r HAT would you think of that prince, or of that government, 
who should issue an edict forbidding you to dress like a gen- 
tleman or gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or servitude ? 
Would you not say that you were free, have a right to dress as 
you please, and that such an edict would be a breach of your 
privileges, and such a government tyrannical ? And yet you arc 
about to put yourself under such tyranny, when you run in debt for 
such dress ! Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to de- 
prive you of your liberty, by confining you in jail till you shall be 
able to pay him. When you have got your bargain, you may, per- 
haps, think little of payment, but as Poor Richard says, Creditors 
have better memories than debtors; creditors are a superstitious sect, 
great observers of set days and times. The day comes round before 
you are aware, and the demand is made before you are prepared to 
satisfy it; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the term, which at 
first seemed so long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely short. 
Time will seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his 
shoulders. Those have a short Lent who owe money to be paid at 

BefctS. — Fuller. 
T OSE not thy own for want of asking for it; 'twill get thee no 

DCCBH. — ShaJcspeare. 
Look to her, Moor ; have a quick eye to see : 
She has deceived her Father, and may thee. 

Defence Skakspeare. 

TN causes of Defence, 'tis best to weigh 

The enemy more mighty than he seems; 
So the proportions of Defence are fill'd ; 
Which of a weak and niggardly projection 
Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scanting 
A little cloth. 

DeftCenCC. — Shenstone. 
T)EFERENCE is the most complicate, the most indirect, and the 
most elegant of all Compliments. 

Deference. — Shenstone. 
"PREFERENCE often shrinks and withers as much upon the ap- 
proach of Intimacy, as the sensitive plant does upon the touch 
of one's finger. 

Cf)e Sett}). — Milton. 

And thou, Spirit, that dost prefer, 

Before all temples, the upright heart and pure, 

Instruct me, for thou know'st. 


3If)C Dettp. — Prior. 
Repine not, nor reply : 
View not what Heaven ordains with Reason's eye, 
Too bright the object is; the distance is too high. 
The man, who would resolve the work of Fate, 
May limit number, and make crooked straight: 
Stop thy inquiry then, and curb thy sense, 
Nor let dust argue with Omnipotence. 

Cf)e Btity.— Prior. 
"PROM Nature's constant or eccentric laws, 

The thoughtful soul this general inference draws, 
That an Effect must presuppose a Cause : 
And, while she does her upward flight sustain, 
Touching each link of the continued chain, 
At length she is obliged and forced to see 
A First, a Source, a Life, a Deity ; 
What has for ever been, and must for ever be. 

Cf)e ©Cttj). — Thomson. 
A ND yet was every faltering tongue of man, 

Almighty Father ! silent in thy praise ! 
Thy works themselves would raise a general voice, 
Even in the depth of solitary woods 
By human foot untrod, proclaim thy power, 
And to the quire celestial Thee resound, 
The eternal Cause, Support, and End of all ! 

2Tf)e BettJ). — Thomson. 
TTAIL, Source of Being ! Universal Soul 

Of Heaven and Earth! Essential Presence, hail! 
To Thee I bend the knee; to Thee my thoughts 
Continual climb; who, with a Master hand, 
Hast the great whole into perfection touch'd. 

Cf)e BettJ?. — Thomson. 
"VITITH what an awful world-revolving power 

Were first the unwieldy planets launch'd along 
The illimitable void ! Thus to remain, 
Amid the flux of many thousand years, 
That oft has swept the toiling race of men 
And all their labour'd monuments away, 
Firm, unremitting, matchless in their course; 
To the kind-temper'd change of Night and Day, 
And of the Seasons ever stealing round, 
Minutely faithful: Such the all-perfect Hand! 
That poised, impels, and rules the steady whole. 


2Tf)e Settg. — Cowper. 
TN the vast, and the minute, we see 

The unambiguous footsteps of the God, 
Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing, 
And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds. 

53claj). — Shakspeare. 
f\ THAT comfort comes too late; 

; Tis like a pardon after execution : 
That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me; 
But now I am past all comfort here, but prayers. 

HBtiitatS. — GreviUe. 

Y\TEAK men often, from the very principle of their weakness, 
derive a certain Susceptibility, Delicacy, and Taste, which 
render them, in those particulars, much superior to men of stronger 
and more consistent minds, who laugh at them. 

BeltCacp, — Novalis. 
CIIAME is a feeling of profanation. Friendship, Love, and Piety 
ought to be handled with a sort of mysterious secrecy; they 
ought to be spoken of only in the rare moments of perfect confi- 
dence — to be mutually understood in silence. Many things are 
too delicate to be thought; many more, to be spoken. 

Cf)e TBtlUQt. — Byron. 
TTIE Heavens and Earth are mingling — God ! God ! 

What have we done ? yet spare ! 
Hark ! even the forest beasts howl forth their pray'r ! 
The dragon crawls from out his den, 
To herd in terror innocent with men; 
And the birds scream their agony through air. 

DclUStOn. — La Rochefoucauld. 
YITHEN our vices quit us, we natter ourselves with the belief that 
it is we who quit them. 

Delusion. — Ootam. 

Y\ r E strive as hard to hide our hearts from ourselves as from 
others, and always with more success; for in deciding upon 
our own case, we are both judge, jury, and executioner; and where 
Sophistry cannot overcome the first, or Flattery the second, Self- 
love is always ready to defeat the sentence by bribing the third; a 
bribe that in this case is never refused, because she always comes 
up to the price. 

DclUSlOtt. — &> Philip Sidney. 
TT many times falls out, that we deem ourselves much deceived in 
others, because we first deceived ourselves. 



Delusion. — Shakspeare. 
0, who can hold a fire in his hand, 
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 
By bare Imagination of a feast? 
Or wallow naked in December snow, 
By thinking on fantastic Summer's heat ? 
no ! the apprehension of the good 
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : 
Fell Sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more, 
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. 

DetotOn- — Shakspeare. 
'THIS is the excellent Foppery of the World ! that, when we are 
sick in fortune, (often the surfeit of our own behaviour,) we 
make guilty of our disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars : as 
if we were villains by necessity ; fools, by heavenly compulsion ; 
knaves, thieves, and treachers, by spherical predominance ; drunk- 
ards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary 
influence ; and all that we are evil in by a divine thrusting on. 

B elUStOTt. — Shakspeare. 
T)ANGrEROUS Conceits are, in their natures, poisons, 

Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste; 
But with a little act upon the blood, 
Burn like the mines of sulphur. 

B elUStOn. — Shakspeare. 
thoughts of men accurst ! 
Past, and to come, seem best; things present, worst. 

DelUSion. — Fronde. 
TTOW oft that Virtue, which some Women boast, 

And pride themselves in, is but an Empty Name, 
No real good : in thought alone possessed. 
Safe in the want of charms, the homely Dame, 
Secure from the seducing arts of man, 
Deceives herself, and thinks she's passing chaste ; 
Wonders how others e'er could fall, yet when 
She talks most loud about the noisy nothing, 
Look on ber Face, and there you read her Virtue. 

DelUSion. — Shakspeare. 

For love of Grace, 
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul; 
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; 
Whiles rank Corruption, mining all within, 
Infects unseen. 


Cf)e IBemagoflue.— Sir A. Hunt. 

T DO despise these Demagogues, that fret 
The angry Multitude : they are but as 
The froth upon the mountain-wave — the bird 
That shrieks upon the sullen tempest's wing. 

BemOCraCg. — Fisher Ames. 
TNTELLECTUAL superiority is so far from conciliating confi- 
dence, that it is the very spirit of a democracy, as in France, to 
proscribe the aristocracy of talents. To be the favourite of an igno- 
rant multitude, a man must descend to their level ; he must desire 
what they desire, and detest all they do not approve : he must yield 
to their prejudices, and substitute them for principles. Instead of 
enlightening their errors, he must adopt them; he must furnish the 
sophistry that will propagate and defend them. 

American Democracy.— Jefferson. 

TTQUAL and exact justice to all men, of whatever state or persua- 
sion, religious or political ; peace, commerce, and honest friend- 
ship with all nations, entangling alliances with none ; the support 
of the state governments in all their rights, as the most competent 
administrations for our domestic concerns, and the surest bulwarks 
against anti-republican tendencies ; the preservation of the general 
government in its whole constitutional vigour, as the sheet-anchor 
of our peace at home, and safety abroad ; a jealous care of the right 
of election by the people ; a mild and safe corrective of abuses, 
which are lopped by the sword of revolution where peaceable reme- 
dies are unprovided ; absolute acquiescence in the decisions of the 
majority, the vital principle of republics, from which there is no 
appeal but to force, the vital principle and immediate parent of des- 
potism ; a well disciplined militia, our best reliance in peace, and 
for the first moments of war, till regulars may relieve them ; the 
supremacy of the civil over the military authority ; economy in the 
public expense, that labour may be lightly burdened ; the honest 
payment of our debts, and sacred preservation of the public faith; 
encouragement of agriculture, and of commerce, as its handmaid ; 
the diffusion of information, and arraignment of all abuses at the 
bar of the public reason ; freedom of religion ; freedom of the press; 
and freedom of person, under the protection of the habeas corpus ; 
and trial by juries impartially selected. 

iDepUtg. — Shakspeare. 
J^ SUBSTITUTE shines brightly as a King, 

Until a King be by; and then his state 
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
Into the main of waters. 


BeStre. — Shakspeare. 
All impediments in Fancy's course 
Are motives of more Fancy. 

BeSOlatUm. — Byron. 

My mother Earth ! 
And thou, fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains, 
Why are ye beautiful ? I cannot love ye. 
And thou, the bright eye of the Universe, 
That openest over all, and unto all 
Art a delight — thou shin'st not on my heart. 

BeSOlattOn. — Maturin. 
THHE fountain of my heart dried up within me; 

With naught that loved me, and with naught to love, 
I stood upon the desert earth alone. 
And in that deep and utter Agony, 
Though then than ever most unfit to die, 
I fell upon my knees, and pray'd for Death. 

BttlOlatUm. — Thomson. 
jJNHAPPY he ! who from the first of joys 

Society, cut off, is left alone 
Amid this world of Death. Day after day, 
Sad on the jutting eminence he sits, 
And views the main that ever toils below; 
Still fondly forming in the farthest verge, 
Where the round ether mixes with the wave, 
Ships, dira-discover'd, dropping from the clouds; 
At evening, to the setting sun he turns 
A mournful eye, and down his dying heart 
Sinks helpless. 

Bespatr.— miton. 

All Hope is lost 
Of my reception into grace; what worse? 
For where no Hope is left, is left no Fear. 

SeSpatr. — Joanna BaiU'x. 
T>E it what it may, or bliss, or torment, 

Annihilation, dark and endless rest, 
Or some dread thing, man's wildest range of thought 
Hath never yet conceived, that change I'll dare 
Which makes me any thing but what I am. 


SeSpatC— Thomson. 
Tis late before 
The brave Despair. 

Despair. — miton. 

"V/TE miserable ! which way shall I fly 

Infinite wrath, and infinite Despair ? 
Which way T fly is Hell ; myself am Hell ? 
And in the lowest deep a lower deep 
Still threat ning to devour me opens wide, 
To which the Hell I sutler seems a Heaven. 

Despair. — Shakspeare. 
I am one, 
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world 
Have so incensed, that I am reckless what 
I do to spite the world. 

And I another, 
So weary with disasters, tugg'd with Fortune, 
That I would set my life on any chance, 
To mend it or be rid on't. 

So cowards fight, when they can fly no farther; 
So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons ; 
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, 
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. 

Bespatr.— BeatUe. 
~T)READFUL is their doom, whom doubt has driven 

To censure Fate, and pious Hope forego : 
Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven, 
Perfection, Beauty, Life, they never know, 
But frown on all that pass, a Monument of Wo. 

Bt$$m.— Collier. 
J^ESPAIR makes a despicable figure, and descends from a mean 
original. 'Tis the offspring of Fear, of Laziness, and Impa- 
tience; it argues a defect of spirit and resolution, and oftentimes 
of honesty too. I would not despair, unless I saw misfortune 
recorded in the Book of Fate, and signed and sealed by necessity. 

MtBVm.— Greoitte. 
J)ESPAIR gives the shocking ease to the Mind, that a mortifi 
cation gives to the Body. 

Cf)e DesptSetr — La Rochefoucauld. 

It is only those who are despicable who fear being despised 


Spiritual l&tBpotwm.—MUton. 

THHEX shall they seek to avail themselves of names, 

Places, and titles, and with these to join 
Secular pow'r, though feigning still to act 
By spiritual, to themselves appropriating 
The Spirit of God, promised alike and given 
To all believers ; and from that pretence, 
Spiritual Laws by Carnal Power shall force 
On every conscience; laws which none shall find 
Left them enroll'd, or what the spirit within 
Shall on the heart engrave. 

Spiritual Despotism*— MOUm. 

TV^OLVES shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves, 

Who all the sacred mysteries of Heaven 
To their own vile advantages shall turn 
Of lucre and ambition, and the Truth 
With superstitions and traditions taint. 

Df.Stinp. — Robert Hall. 
'THE wheels of Nature are not made to roll backward : every 
thing presses on toward Eternity : from the birth of Time an 
impetuous current has set in, which bears all the sons of men 
towards that interminable ocean. Meanwhile Heaven is attracting 
to itself whatever is congenial to its nature, is enriching itself by 
the spoils of Earth, and collecting within its capacious bosom 
whatever is pure, permanent, and divine. 

Destiny). — Cotton, 
r)UR minds are as different as our faces; we are all travelling to 
one Destination — Happiness ; but few are going by the same 

SeSttttg. — Cumberland. 
T DO not mean to expose my ideas to ingenious ridicule by main- 
taining that every thing happens to every man for the best; 
but I will contend, that he who makes the best use of it, fulfils 
the part of a wise and good man. 

Ditt. — Franklin. 

TN general, mankind, since the improvement of cookery, eat about 
twice as much as nature requires. 

DtCt. — Sir W. Temple. 
A LL courageous animal? are carnivorous, and greater courage is 
to be expected in a people, such as the English, whose Fool is 
strong and hearty, than in the half-starved commonalty of other 


Mitt. — Burton. 
1700D improperly taken, not only produces original diseases, but 
affords those that are already engendered both matter and sus- 
tenance; so that, let the father of disease be what it may, In- 
temperance is certainly its mother. 

Bitt — Pliny. 
QIMPLE Diet is best; — for many Dishes bring many diseases; 
and rich Sauces are worse than even heaping several Meats upon 
each other. 

Mitt — Horace. 
'THE chief pleasure (in Eating) does not consist in costly Season- 
ing, or exquisite Flavour, but in yourself. Do you seek for 
Sauce by sweating. 

Z&itt. — Shakspeare. 
THE veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then 

We pout upon the morning, are unapt 
To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff d 
These pipes, and these conveyances of our blood, 
With Wine and Feeding, we have suppler souls 
Than in our priest-like fasts. 

diligence. — Franklin. 
\yHAT though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich re- 
lation left you a legacy. Diligence is the mother of good 
luck, and God gives all things to industry. Then plough deep 
while sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and to keep. 
Work while it is called to-day, for you know not how much you 
may be hindered to-morrow. One to-day is worth two to-morrows, 
as Poor Richard says; and further, never leave that till to-morrow 
which you can do to-day. 

SKnUlg*— Johnson. 

"QEFORE Dinner, men meet with great inequality of understand- 
ing; and those who are conscious of their inferiority have the 
modesty not to talk : when they have drunk Wine, every man feels 
himself happy, and loses that modesty, and grows impudent and 
vociferous; but he is not improved; he is only not sensible of his 

discernment. — Greviiie. 

T)ISCERNMENT is a power of the understanding in which few 
excel. Is not that owing to its connection with Impartiality 
and Truth? for are not Prejudice and Partiality blind? 

Bmivlint. — Seneca. 

\TO evil propensity of the human heart is so powerful that it may 
not be subdued by Discipline. 



J)ISCIPLINE, like the bridle in the hand of a good rider, should 
exercise its influence without appearing to do so; should be 
ever active, both as a support and as a restraint, yet seem to lie 
easily in hand. It must always be ready to check or to pull up, 
as occasion may require; and only when the horse is a runaway, 
should the action of the curb be perceptible. 

Bimvlint. — Shakspeare. 

Now, as fond fathers, 
Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch, 
Only to stick it in their children's sight, 
For terror, not to use; in time the rod 
Becomes more mock'd than fear'd : so our decrees, 
Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead; 
And Liberty plucks Justice by the nose ; 
The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart 
Goes all Decorum. 

StSCtplme. — Shakspeare. 
Had doting Priam check'd his son's desire, 
Troy had been bright with fame, and not with fire. 

BiztmUnt.— Bishop Hail 

'THE Malecontent is neither well, full nor fasting; and though he 
abound with complaints, yet nothing dislikes him but the present; 
for what he condemns while it was, once passed, he magnifies and 
strives to recall it out of the jaws of time. What he hath he seeth 
not, his eyes are so taken up with what he wants; and what he sees 
he careth not for, because he cares so much for that which is not. 

33t0COC"b. — Peter Pindar. 
T^ISCORD, a sleepless hag, who never dies, 

With snipe-like nose, aud ferret-glowiug eyes; 
Lean, sallow cheeks, long chin, with beard supplied, 
Poor vi crackling joints, and wither'd parchment hide, 
As if old drums, worn out with martial din, 
Had clubb'd their yellow heads to form her skin. 

StgCOCtl. — Shakspeare. 
TPHIS late Dissension, grown betwixt the peers, 

Burns under feign'd ashes of forged love, 
And will at last break out into a flame, 
As fester'd members rot but by degrees, 
Till bones, and flesh, and sinews, fall away, 
So will this base and envious Discord breed. 


BtSCOttiance. — Shakspeare. 
How sour sweet Music is, 
When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept! 
So is it in the Music of Men's Lives. 

Siscoberg.— Coiton. 

TT has been asked, which are the greatest minds, and to which 
do we owe the greatest reverence ? To those who by the 
powerful deductions of their Reason, and the well-grounded sugges- 
tions of Analogy, have made profound discoveries in the sciences, 
as it were d priori ; or to those, who, by the patient road of 
Experiment, and the subsequent improvement of instruments, have 
brought these discoveries to perfection, as it were d posteriori? 
Who have rendered that certain which before was only conjectural, 
practical which was problematical, safe which was dangerous, and 
subservient which was unmanageable ? It would seem that the 
first class demand our admiration, and the second our gratitude. 
Seneca predicted another hemisphere, but Columbus presented us 
with it. 

©tscobertes.— Coiton. 

TT is a mortifying truth, and ought to teach the wisest of us 
humility, that many of the most valuable Discoveries have been 
the result of chance, rather than of contemplation, and of accident 
rather than of design. 

Discretion. — Sir Walter Raleigh. 
TEST not openly at those that are simple, but remember how 
much thou art bound to God, who hath made thee wiser. 
Defame not any woman publicly, though thou know her to be evil; 
for those that are faulty cannot endure to be taxed, but will seek 
to be avenged of thee; and those that are not guilty, cannot endure 
unjust reproach. As there is nothing more shameful and dishonest 
than to do wrong, so truth itself cutteth his throat that carrieth 
her publicly in every place. Remember the divine saying, he that 
keepeth his mouth, keepeth his life. 

Mztutinn. — Hume. 

r rHE greatest parts without Discretion may be fatal to theii 
owner; as Polyphemus, deprived of his eye, was only the 
more exposed on account of his enormous strength and stature. 

discretion. — Zimmerman. 
QPEN your mouth and purse cautiously ; and your stock of 
wealth and reputation shall, at least in repute, be great. 



ZBmxttion. — Coiton. 

TF a cause be good, the most violent attack of its enemies will not 
injure it so much as an injudicious defence of it by its friends. 
Theodoret and others, who gravely defend the monkish miracles, 
and the luminous cross of Constantine, by their zeal without 
knowledge, and devotion without Discretion, have hurt the cause 
of Christianity more by such friendship than the apostate Julian 
by his hostility, notwithstanding all the wit and vigour with which 
it was conducted. 

IBtSCrettOn. —Addison. 
'THERE are many more shining qualities in the mind of man, but 
there is none so useful as Discretion ; it is this indeed which 
gives a value to all the rest, which sets them at work in their 
proper times and places, and turns them to the advantage of the 
person who is possessed of them. Without it, Learning is Pedantry 
and Wit Impertinence ; Virtue itself looks like Weakness ; the 
best parts only qualify a man to be more sprightly in errors, and 
active to his own prejudice. 

iBiSCUSStOn.— Bishop Watson. 
T^THOSOEVER is afraid of submitting any Question, civil or 
religious, to the test of free Discussion, is more in love with 
his own opinion than with Truth. 

Mi$W8t8. — ShaJcspeare. 

Diseases, desperate grown, 
By desperate appliances are relieved, 
Or not at all. 

Btsinterestetmess. — Anon. 

TV/TEN of the world hold that it is impossible to do a Disinterested 
Action, except from an Interested Motive; for the sake of 
admiration, if for no grosser, more tangible gain. Doubtless they 
are also convinced, that, when the sun is showering light from the 
sky, he is only standing there to be stared at. 

33 imputation. — Socrates. 
TF thou continuest to take delight in idle Argumentation, thou 
mayst be qualified to combat with the Sophists, but wilt never 
know how to live with men. 

dFamilg UBiSSenSion. — From the Latin. 
T^ROM what stranger can you expect attachment, if you are at 
variance with your own Relations ? 

©iSSintUlation. —La Bruyere. 
TYTSSIMULATION, even the most innocent in its nature, is 
ever productive of embarrassment ; whether the design is evil 
or not, artifice is always dangerous and almost inevitablj' dis- 


graceful. The best and the most safe policy is, never to have re- 
course to Deception, to avail yourself of Quirks, or to practise low- 
Cunning, and to prove yourself in every circumstance of your life 
equally upright and sincere. This system is naturally that which 
noble minds will adopt, and the dictates of an enlightened and su- 
perior understanding would be sufficient to insure its adoption. 

BUESStmulatiOtt. —Lord Bacon. 
J)ISSIMULATION is but a faint kind of policy or wisdom j for 
it asketh a strong wit and a strong heart to know when to tell 
truth, and to do it : therefore it is the weaker sort of politicians 
that are the greatest Dissemblers. 

DOCtlttg. — Manlius. 
A Docile Disposition will, with application, surmount every diffi- 

Dogmatism.— Hume. 

\\THERE men are the most sure and arrogant, they are com- 
monly the most mistaken, and have there given reins to 
passion, without that proper deliberation and suspense, which can 
alone secure them from the grossest absurdities. 


Ten thousand Casks, 
For ever dribbling out their base contents, 
Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, 
Bleed gold for Ministers to sport away. 
Drink and be mad then. ; Tis your Country bids. 
Gloriously drunk, obey th' important call, 
Her cause demands th' assistance of your Throats : 
Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more. 

Dreaming. —Novoli*. 

We are near waking, when we dream that we dream. 

Dreams. — ShaJcspeare. 
TF I may trust the flattering truth of Sleep, 

My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: 
My bosom's lord sits lightly on his throne, 
And, all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit 
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. 
I dreamt, my lady came and found me dead, 
(Strange Dream ! that gives a dead man leave to think,) 
And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, 
That I revived, and was an emperor. 
Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possest, 
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy ? 


Duamz.— Coiton. 

METAPHYSICIANS have been learning their lesson for tho 
last four thousand years, and it is high time that they should 
now begin to teach us something. Can any of the tribe inform us 
why all the operations of the mind are carried on with undiminished 
strength and activity in Dreams, except the Judgment, which alone 
is suspended, and dormant. This faculty of the mind is in a state 
of total inefficiency during Dreams. Let any man carefully examine 
his own experience on this subject, and he will find that the most 
glaring incongruities of time, the most palpable contradictions of 
place, and the grossest absurdities of circumstance, are most glibly 
swallowed down by the Dreamer, without the slightest dissent or 
demurrage of the Judgment. The moment we are wide awake the 
Judgment reassumes her functions, and shocks us with surprise at 
a credulity that even in sleep could reconcile such a tissue of 

23 Watttg. — Shakspeare. 
T'HY spirit within thee hath been so at war, 

And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy Sleep 
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow, 
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream; 
And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, 
Such as we see when men restrain their breath 
On some great sudden haste. 

BreamS,— Dryden. 
T)REAMS are but interludes which Fancy makes. 

When monarch Reason sleeps, this mimic wakes : 
Compounds a medly of disjointed things, 
A mob of cobblers, and a court of kings : 
Light fumes are merry, grosser fumes are sad 
Both are the reasonable soul run mad : 
And many monstrous forms in Sleep we see, 
That neither were, nor are, nor e'er can be. 
Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind, 
Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind. 

3&KZ%$* — Shakspeare. 
\\rHAT, is the Jay more precious than the Lark 

Because his feathers are more beautiful ? 
Or is the Adder better than the Eel, 
Because his painted skin contents the eye? 
Oh no, good Kate ; neither art thou the worse 
For this poor Furniture, and mean Array. 


Dreams — Shakspeare. 
TYREAMS are the children of an idle brain, 

Begot of nothing but vain Fantasy ; 
Which is as thin of substance as the air; 
And more inconstant than the wind. 

DreSS. — Sir Jonah Barrington. 
T)RESS has a moral effect upon the conduct of mankind. Let any 
gentleman find himself with dirty Boots, old Surtout, soiled 
Neckcloth, and a general negligence of Dress, he will, in all proba- 
bility, find a corresponding disposition by negligence of address. 

DtCSS. — Cotpper. 
\\TE sacrifice to Dress, till household joys 

And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry, 
And keeps our larder lean. Puts out our fires, 
And introduces Hunger, Frost, and Wo, 
Where Peace and Hospitality might reign. 

2Bte$0. — Goldsmith. 

PROCESSIONS, Cavalcades, and all that fund of gay Frippery, 

furnished out by tailors, barbers, and tire-women, mechanically 

influence the mind into veneration : an emperor in his night-cap 

would not meet with half the respect of an emperor with a crown. 

Drototthtg. — Shakspeare. 
C\ LORD ! methought what pain it was to drown ! 

What dreadful noise of Water in my ears ! 
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks, 
A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon. 

Unftgetjg.— Longfellow. 

'"THE every-day cares and duties, which men call drudgery, are 
the weights and counterpoises of the clock of time, giving its pen- 
dulum a true vibration, and its hands a regular motion; and when 
they cease to hang upon the wheels, the pendulum no longer 
swings, the hands no longer move, the clock stands still. 

Drunkenness. — ShensUme. 

pEOPLE say, "Do not regard what he says, now he is in liquor." 
Perhaps it is the only time he ought to be regarded : Aperit, 
prsecordia liber. 

Drunkenness. — Coiton. 

J)RUNKENNESS is the vice of a good Constitution, or of a bad 
Memory ; of a Constitution so treacherously good, that it never 
bends until it breaks ; or of a Memory that recollects the pleasures 
of getting drunk, or forgets the pains of getting sober. 



DtUttkcniUSg. — Shakspcare. 
Q THOU invisible spirit of Wine, if thou hast no name to be 
known by, let us call thee — Devil ! * * * 0, that men 
should put an enemy to their mouths, to steal away their brains! 
that we should, with joy, revel, pleasure, and applause, transform 
ourselves into beasts ! 

Drunkenness. — Sir Walter Raleigh. 
TT were better for a man to be subject to any vice, than to Drunk- 
enness : for all other vanities and sins are recovered, but a 
Drunkard willnever shake off the delight of Beastliness; for the 
longer it possesseth a man, the more he will delight in it, and the 
elder he groweth the more he shall be subject to it; for it dulleth 
the spirits, and destroyeth the body as ivy doth the old tree; or as 
the worm that engendereth in the kernel of the nut. 

Drunkenness. — Shakspeare. 
T^THATS a Drunken Man like? Like a drown'd man, a fool, 
and a madman : one draught above heat makes him a fool ; 
the second mads him ; and a third drowns him. 

Dull i^len. — Bishop Earle. 
(^j-REAT brains (like brightest glass) crack straight, while those 

Of stone or wood hold out, and fear no blows; 
And we their ancient hoary heads can see 
Whose Wit was never their Mortality. 

Dull iften. — Saville. 
A DULL Man is so near a dead man, that he is hardly to be 
ranked in the list of the living ; and as he is not to be buried 
whilst he is half alive, so he is as little to be employed whilst he is 
half dead. 

Duping. — Bulwer Lytton. 
HTHE surest way of making a Dupe is to let your Victim suppose 
that you are his. 

Dupltettg. — Shakspeare. 
C\ WHAT may man within him hide, 
Though angel on the outward side ! 
How many Likeness, made in crimes, 
Making practice on the times, 
Draw with idle spiders' strings 
Most pond'rous and substantial things! 


SOftal DllttCS. — Kant. 
TK)TH Love of Mankind, and Respect for their Rights, are Du- 
ties ; the former, however, are only a conditional, the latter an 
unconditional, purely imperative Duty, which he must be perfectly 
certain not to have transgressed, who would give himself up to the 
secret emotions arising from Beneficence. 

Dutg.— Anon. 
F)UTY is above all consequences, and often, at a crisis of diffi- 
culty, commands us to throw them overboard. Flat Justitfu, 
pereat mundus. It commands us to look neither to the right, nor 
to the left, but straight onward. Hence every signal act of Duty 
is altogether an act of Faith. It is performed in the assurance that 
God will take care of the consequences, and will so order the course 
of the world, that, whatever the immediate results may be, His 
word shall not return to Him empty. 

i3aclg MtStrtg. — Thomson. 

Is there aught in Sleep can charm the wise 
To ne in dead oblivion, losing half 
The fleeting moments of too short a life; 
Total extinction of the enlighten'd soul! 
Or else to feverish vanity alive, 
Wilder'd, and tossing thro' distemper'd Dreams? 
Who would in such a gloomy state remain 
Longer than nature craves; when ev'ry muse 
And every blooming pleasure wait without, 
To bless the wildly devious Morning walk? 

l^arlp Ittstitg.— Coiton. 

OLD men, it would seem, were to be found among those who had 
travelled, and those who had never been out of their own parish. 
Excess could produce her veterans, no less than Temperance, since 
some had kept off the grim tyrant by libations of wine, as success- 
fully as others by potations of water; and some by copious appli- 
cations of brandy and of gin seem to have kept off their summons 
to the Land of Spirits. In short it appeared that many who agreed 
in scarcely any thing else, agreed in having attained longevity. 
But there were only two questions, in which they all agreed, and 
these two questions, when put, were always answered in the affirma- 
tive by the oldest of those Greenwich and Chelsea pensioners to 
whom they were proposed. The questions were these : Were you 
descended from parents of good stamina? and have you been in the 
habit of Early Rising? Early Rising, therefore, not only gives to 
us more life in the same number of our years, but adds likewise to 
their number; and not only enables us to enjoy more of existence 
in the same measure of time, but increases also the measure. 


IHatlg Ifctgrng. — cwfow. 

XTO man can promise himself even fifty years of life, but any 
man may, if he please, live in the proportion of fifty years in 
forty; — let him rise early, that he may have the day before him, 
and let him make the most of the day, by determining to expend 
it on two sorts of acquaintance only, — those by whom something 
may be got, and those from whom somethiug may be learnt. 

IBaWeStneSS. — Anon. 
HPHE reason why Delivery is of such force, is that, unless a man 
appears by his outward Look and Gesture to be himself animated 
by the truths he is uttering, he will not animate his hearers. It is 
the live coal that kindles others, not the dead. Nay, the same 
principle applies to all oratory; and what made Demosthenes the 
greatest of orators, was that he appeared the most entirely possest 
by the feelings he wished to inspire. The main use of his vrtoxpuus 
was, that it enabled him to remove the natural hinderances which 
checked and clogged the stream of those feelings, and to pour them 
forth with a free and mighty torrent that swept his audience along. 
The effect produced by Charles Fox, who by the exaggeration of 
party-spirit was often compared to Demosthenes, seems to have 
arisen wholly from this earnestness, which made up for the want 
of almost every grace, both of manner and style. 

ISartfttJUalte. — Shakspeare. 
TYTSEASED Nature oftentimes breaks forth 

In strange eruptions; and the teeming Earth 
Is with a kind of cholic pinch'd and vext, 
By the imprisoning of unruly wind 
Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving, 
Shakes the old beldam Earth, and topples down 
Steeples, and moss-grown towers. 

ISadfjg. — Shakspeare. 
'Tis but a base ignoble Mind, 
That mounts no higher than a Bird can soar. 

ISasg Cemper — Grcviiu. 

TT is an unhappy, and yet I fear a true reflection, that they who 
have uncommon Easiness and Softness of Temper, have seldom 
very noble and nice sensations of soul. 

iSCOnnrng. _ Hawkesworth. 
"PCONOMY is the parent of Integrity, of Liberty, and of Ease; 
and the beauteous sister of Temperance, of Cheerfulness, and 
Health : and Profuseness is a cruel and crafty demon, that gradually 
involves her followers in dependence and debts; that is, fetters 
them with "irons that enter into their souls." 


lEtmcatton. — Coiton. 

TT is adverse to talent, to be consorted and trained up with in- 
ferior minds, or inferior companions, however high they may rank.. 
The foal of the racer neither finds out his speed, nor calls out hit; 
powers, if pastured out with the common herd, that are destined foi 
the collar and the yoke. 

13trUCatl0tt Horace. 

[JNLESS your cask is perfectly clean, whatever you pour into it 
turns sour. 

IStmcattOTX. — GrevOie. 
THHE more perfect the nature, the more weak, the more wrong, 
the more absurd, may be the something in a character : to 
explain the paradox, if a mind is delicate and susceptible, false im- 
pressions in Education will have a bad effect in proportion to that 
susceptibility, and consequently may produce an evil which a stupid 
and insensible nature might have avoided. 

ISfiUCatUm. — Shakspeare. 
Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow rooted ; 
Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden, 
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry. 

IHtlUCattOtt. — Webster. 
T7"N0WLEDGE does not comprise all which is contained in the 
large term of education. The feelings are to be disciplined, the 
passions are to be restrained; true and worthy motives are to be 
inspired; a profound religious feeling is to be instilled, and pure 
morality inculcated under all circumstances. All this is comprised 
in education. 

popular IStJUCatiOtt. — Washington. 
X>ROMOTE, as an object of primary importance, institutions for 
the general diffusion of knowledge. In proportion as the struc- 
ture of a government gives force to public opinion, it should be 

ISgOttSHt. — Lavaier. 
'THE more any one speaks of himself, the less he likes to hear 
another talked of. 

IHgOttSttt. — La Rochefoucauld. 
TTE who thinks he can find in himself the means of doing without 
others is much mistaken ; but he who thinks that others can- 
not do without him is still more mistaken. 

ISlOQUeitCe. — Drijden. 
Your Words are like the notes of dying swans, 
Too sweet to last ! 


Eloquence.— Byron. 
gINCERE be was — at least you could not doubt it, 

In listening merely to his Voice's Tone. 
The Devil hath not in all his quiver's choice, 
An arrow for the heart like a Sweet Voice. 

ISlo pence.— miton. 

His Tongue 
Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear 
The better reason, to perplex and dash 
Maturest counsels 

IBlopenCC. — Havard. 
Q ELOQUENCE ! thou violated fair, 

How art thou woo'd, and won to either bed 
Of Right or Wrong ! Oh ! when Injustice folds thee, 
Dost thou not curse thy charms for pleasing him, 
And blush at conquest ? 

ISlo pence.— Rowe. 

Oh ! I know 
Thou hast a tongue to charm the wildest tempers ; 
Herds would forget to graze, and savage beasts 
Stand still, and lose their fierceness, but to hear thee, 
As if they had reflection : and by reason, 
Forsook a less enjoyment for a greater. 

IHlO QUettCe. — Dryden. 
When he spoke, what tender Words he used ! 
So softly, that like flakes of feather'd snow, 
They melted as they fell. 

IS lo pence. — Coiton. 

EXTEMPORANEOUS and oral harangues will always have this 
advantage over those that are read from a manuscript ; every 
burst of Eloquence or spark of genius they may contain, however 
studied they may have been beforehand, will appear to the audi- 
ence to be the effect of the sudden inspiration of talent. Whereas 
similar efforts, when written, although they may not cost the writer 
half the time in his closet, will never be appreciated as any thing 
more than the slow efforts of long study and laborious application ; 
olehunt oleum, esli non oleant! and this circumstance it is that gives 
such peculiar success to a pointed reply, since the hearers are cer- 
tain that in this case all study is out of the question, that the Elo- 
quence arises ex re nata, and that the brilliancy has been elicited 
from the collision of another mind, as rapidly as the spark from 
the steel. 


IHlOQUeitCe. — La Rochefoucauld. 
'THERE is as much Eloquence in the Tone of Voice, in the eyes, 
and in the air of a Speaker, as in his choice of Words. 

IHlcquettCe. — La Rochefoucauld. 
'TRUE eloquence consists in saying all that is necessary, and 
nothing but what is necessary. 

ISloqUCnce.— Hare. 
"lyTANY are ambitious of saying grand things, that is, of being 
grandiloquent. Eloquence is speaking out ... a quality few 
esteem, and fewer aim at. 

ISloquence* — steme. 

/^j-REAT is the power of Eloquence ; but never is it so great as 
when it pleads along with nature, and the culprit is a child 
strayed from his duty, and returned to it again with tears. 

iSlOQUence,— Webster. 
TRUE eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot 
be brought from far. Labour and learning may toil for it, but 
they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be marshalled in 
every way, but they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, 
in the subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense ex- 
pression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire after it — they 
cannot reach it. It comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of 
a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic tires 
with spontaneous, original, native force. The graces taught in the 
schools, the costly ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, 
shock and disgust men, when their own lives, and the fate of their 
wives, their children, and their country hang on the decision of the 
hour. Then, words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all 
elaborate oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels re- 
buked and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then, 
patriotism is eloquent; then, self-devotion is eloquent. The clear 
conception outrunning the deduction of logic, the high purpose, the 
firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming 
from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man 
onward, right onward to his object — this, this is eloquence ; or 
rather it is something greater and higher than all eloquence — it is 
action, noble, sublime, godlike action. 

?£mtnettCe. —Addison. 
TT is a folly for an Eminent Man to think of escaping censure, and 
a weakness to be affected with it. All the illustrious persons of 
Antiquity, and indeed of every age in the world, have passed 
through this fiery persecution. 


iSmplOgment. — Young. 
TIFE'S cares are comforts; such by Heaven design'd ; 
He that has none, must make them, or be wretched. 
Cares are Employments; and without Employ 
The soul is on a rack ; the rack of rest, 
To souls most adverse ; Action all their joy. 

ISmplOgment. — Burton. 
EMPLOYMENT, which Galen calls " nature's physician," is so 
essential to human happiness, that Indolence is justly con- 
sidered as the mother of Misery. 

.ISmplOgtttent. — La Bruyere. 
T AZINESS begat wearisomeness, and this put men in quest of 
diversions, play and company, on which however it is a 
constant attendant; he who works hard, has enough to do with 
himself otherwise. 

IHnetgg. — Shakspeare. 
r)UR remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 

Which we ascribe to Heaven : the fated sky 
Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull 
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. 

IBltecp. —Rowe. 
'THE wise and active conquer difficulties, 

By daring to attempt them : sloth and folly 
Shiver and shrink at sight of toil and hazard, 
And make the impossibility they fear. 

_ yZnglUXitS.— Shakspeare. 
Is not their climate foggy, raw and dull? 
On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, 
Killing their fruit with frowns ? 

lEnjOgmeitt. — St. Evremond. 
TMPERFECT Enjoyment is attended with regret; a surfeit of 
pleasure with disgust. There is a certain nick of time, a 
certain medium to be observed, with which few people are ac- 

IHnjOgtttent. —Horace. 
PJUSY yourself not in looking forward to the events of to- 
morrow; but whatever may be those of the days Providence 
may yet assign you, neglect not to turn them to advantage. 

iSnti)U0taiSm. — S. T. Coleridge. 
J7NLIST the interests of stern Morality and religious Enthusiasm 
in the cause of Political Liberty, as in the time of the old 
Puritans, and it will be irresistible. 


15ntf)U!5taSm.— Kant. 
"pNTHUSIASM is always connected with the Senses, whatever 
be the object that excites it. The true strength of Virtue is 
serenity of mind, combined with a deliberate and steadfast Deter- 
mination to execute her laws. That is the healthful condition of 
the Moral Life ; on the other hand, Enthusiasm, even when excited 
by representations of goodness, is a brilliant but feverish glow, 
which leaves only exhaustion and languor behind. 

lEntfjustasm. — Coiton. 

'THE Romans laid down their liberties at the feet of Nero, who 
would not even lend them to Caesar; and we have lately seen 
the whole French Nation rush as one man from the very extremes 
of Loyalty, to behead the mildest Monarch that ever ruled them, 
and conclude a sanguinary career of plunder, by pardoning and 
rewarding a Tyrant, to whom their blood was but water, and their 
groans but wind; thus they sacrificed one that died a martyr to 
his clemency, and they rewarded another, who lived to boast of 
his murders. 

lEntf)Umasm\ — Fitzosborne. 
T LOOK upon Enthusiasm, in all other points but that of Religion, 
to be a very necessary turn of mind; as indeed it is a vein 
which nature seems to have marked with more or less strength, in 
the tempers of most men. No matter what the object is, whether 
Business, Pleasures, or the Fine Arts; whoever pursues them to 
any purpose, must do so con amore. 


I have seen 
The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind 
To hear him speak : The matrons flung their gloves, 
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs, 
Upon him as he pass'd : the nobles bended, 
As to Jove's statue; and the commons made 
A shower and thunder, with their caps and shouts ; 
I never saw the like. 

lEttttttt.— Byr<m. 

"POR Ennui is a growth of English-root, 

Though nameless in our language : — we retort 
The fact for words, and let the French translate 
That awful Yawn which Sleep cannot abate. 

ISnbg. — Ovid. 

J^N VY feeds upon the living ; after death it ceases ; then every 
man's well-earned Honours defend him against Calumny. 



3Hltbj)» — Spenser. 
A ND if she hapt of any good to heare, 

That had to any happily betid, 
Then would she inly fret, and grieve, and teare 
Her flesh for felnesse, which she inward hid : 
But if she heard of ill that any did, 
Or harme that any had, then would she make 
Great cheare, like one unto a banquet bid; 
And in another's losse great pleasure take, 
As she had got thereby, and gayned a great stake. 

IHnb p.— Pope. 

'THERE is some good in Public Envy, whereas in Private there 
is none; for Public Envy is as an ostracism that eclipseth men 
when they grow too great; and therefore it is a bridle also to great 
ones to keep within bounds. 

ISnbg. — Shenstone. 
"THERE is nothing more universally commended than a fine day; 
the reason is, that people can commend it without Envy. 

15nbg. — Spenser. 
TTER hands were foule and durtie, never washt 
In all her life, with long nayles over raught, 
Like puttock's clawes, with th' one of which she scratcht 

Her cursed head, although it itched naught; 

The other held a snake with venime fraught, 
On which she fed and gnawed hungrily, 

As if that long she had not eaten aught; 
That round about her jawes one might descry 
The bloudie gore and poyson dropping loathsomely. 

ISnbj). — Lord Clarendon. 
TF Envy, like Anger, did not burn itself in its own fire, and con- 
sume and destroy those persons it possesses, before it can destroy 
those it wishes worst to, it would set the whole world on fire, and 
leave the most excellent persons the most miserable. 

15nbj). — Colton. 
T'HE benevolent have the advantage of the Envious, even in this 
present life; for the Envious is tormented not only by all the 
ill that befalls himself, but by all the good that happens to another; 
whereas the benevolent man is the better prepared to bear his own 
calamities unruffled, from the complacency and serenity he has 
secured, from contemplating the prosperity of all around him. 

lEnbg. — Colton. 
THE Hate which we all bear with the most- Christian Patience, is 
the Hate of those who Envy us. 


rr ~ =" 


l£nbg. — S. T. Coleridge. 
O.ENIUS may co-exist with Wildness, Idleness, Folly, even with 
Crime; but not long, believe me, with Selfishness and the in- 
dulgence of an Envious Disposition. Envy is xdxL6to$ xal Sixouoraros 
£foj, as I once saw it expressed somewhere in a page of Stobaeus: 
it dwarfs and withers its worshippers. 

iEtlbg, — La Rocliefoucauld. 
eing born with great 

iSnbj). — Clarendon. 

T'HE truest mark of being born with great qualities is being born 
without Envy. 

"PNVY is a Weed that grows in all soils and climates, and is no 
less luxuriant in the Country than in the Court; is not confined 
to any rank of men or extent of fortune, but rages in the breasts 
of all degrees. Alexander was not prouder than Diogenes; and it 
may be, if we would endeavour to surprise it in its most gaudy 
dress and attire, and in the exercise of its full empire and tyranny, 
we should find it in Schoolmasters and Scholars, or iu some Country 
Lady, or the Knight her Husband; all which ranks of people more 
despise their neighbours, than all the degrees of honour in which 
courts abound : and it rages as much in a sordid affected dress, as 
in all the silks and embroideries which the excess of the age and 
the folly of youth delight to be adorned with. Since then, it keeps 
all sorts of Company, and wriggles itself into the liking of the most 
contrary natures and dispositions, and yet carries so much poison 
and venom with it, that it alienates the affections from Heaven, 
and raises rebellion against God himself, it is worth our utmost 
care to watch it in all its disguises and approaches, that we may 
discover it in its first entrance, and dislodge it before it procures a 
shelter or retiring place to lodge and conceal itself. 

IHttbg.— Colton. 
T?NVY ought, in strict truth, to have no place whatever allowed 
it in the heart of man; for the goods of this present world are 
so vile and low, that they are beneath it; and those of the future 
world are so vast and exalted, that they are above it. 

ISnbg.— CoUon. 

r rO diminish Envy, let us consider not what others possess, but 
what they enjoy: mere Riches may be the gift of lucky acci- 
dent or blind chance, but Happiness must be the result of prudent 
preference and rational design; the highest Happiness then can 
have no other foundation than the deepest Wisdom j and the 
happiest fool is only as happy as he knows how to be. 



T7MULATION looks out for merits, that she may exalt herself by 
a victory; Envy spies out blemishes, that she may lower another 
by a defeat. 

IBttbg, — Spenser. 

AND next to him malicious Envy rode 

Upon a ravenous wolfe, and still did chaw 
Between his cankred teeth a venemous tode, 
That all the poison ran about his jaw; 
But inwardly he chawed his owne maw 
At neighbour's welth that made him ever sad; 

For death it was when any good he saw ; 
And wept, that cause of weeping none he had; 
And when he heard of harme he wexed wondrous glad. 

3H(JUalttg. — Langstaff. 
[EQUALITY is one of the most consummate scoundrels that 
ever crept from the brain of a political juggler — a fellow who 
thrusts his hand into the pocket of honest Industry or enterprising 
Talent, and squanders their hard-earned profits on profligate Idle- 
ness or indolent Stupidity. 

ISQUalttp* — SkaJcspeare. 
HPAKE but Degree away, untune that string, 

And, hark, what discord follows ! each thing meets 
In mere oppugnancy : The bounded waters 
Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, 
And make a sop of all this solid globe : 
Strength should be lord of Imbecility, 
And the rude son should strike his father dead : 
Force should be Right. 

15palttg. — SkaJcspeare. 
A RE we not Brothers ? 

So man and man should be ; 
But clay and clay differs in dignity, 
Whose dust is both alike. 

IBQUalttJ). — SkaJcspeare. 
T'HE King is but a Man, as I am : the violet smells to him as 
it doth to me ; the element shews to him as it doth to me ; all 
his senses have but human conditions : his ceremonies laid by, in 
his nakedness he appears but a Man ; and though his affections are 
higher mounted than curs, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with 
the like win<r. 



iScjUalttl). — From the Latin. 
TF all men were on an Equality, the consequence would be that all 
must perish ; for who would till the ground ? who would sow 
it? who would plant? who would press wine ? 

ISqualttJ). — Johnson. 
CO far is it from being true that men are naturally equal, that no 
two people can be half an hour together but one shall acquire 
an evident Superiority over the other. 

ISqiUbOCattOtt. — Shakspeare. 

But yet, — 
I do not like but yet, it does allay 
The good precedence; fye upon but yet : 
But yet is as a gaoler to bring forth 
Some monstrous malefactor. 

IHttOT. — Shakspeare. 
Q HATEFUL Error, Melancholy's child ! 

Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men 
The things that are not ? Error, soon conceived, 
Thou never com'st unto a happy birth, 
But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee. 

Ifc&XZtm. — From the French. 
Many people are Esteemed merely because they are not known. 

IBtemttS. — Addison, 

JjYTERNITY, thou pleasing dreadful Thought! 

Thro' what variety of untried beings, 
Thro' what new scenes and changes must we pass? 
The wide, the unbounded Prospect lies before me ; 
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. 

ISteWttg.— Dowe. 
J]TERNITY, thou awful Gulph of Time, 

This wide creation on thy surface floats. 
Of life — of death — what is, or what shall be, 
I nothing know. The world is all a dream, 
The consciousness of something that exists, 
Yet is not what it seems. Then what am I? 
Death must unfold the mystery ! 

IStetttttg. — Cotton. 
jTE that will often put Eternity and the World before him, and 
who will dare to look steadfastly at both of them, will find 
that the more often he contemplates them, the former will grow 
greater and the latter less. 



lEteOtttS.— Cotton. 

A LAS ! what is Man? whether he be deprived of that light which 
is from on high, or whether he discard it ; a frail and trem- 
bling creature, standing on Time, that bleak and narrow isthmus 
between two Eternities, he sees nothing but impenetrable Darkness 
on the one hand, and Doubt, Distrust, and Conjecture still more 
perplexing on the other. Most gladly would he take an observa- 
tion, as to whence he has come, or whither he is going. Alas, he 
has not the means; his telescope is too dim, his compass too waver- 
ing, his plummet too short. Nor is that little spot, his present 
state, one whit more intelligible, since it may prove a quicksand 
that may sink in a moment from his feet; it can afford him no 
certain reckoning, as to that immeasurable ocean that he may have 
traversed, or that still more formidable one that he must. 

IStentttJ), — Burnet 
T^THAT is this Life but a circulation of little mean actions ? We 
lie down and rise again, dress and undress, feed and wax 
hungry, work or play, and are weary, and then we lie down again, 
and the circle returns. We spend the day in trifles, and when the 
night comes we throw ourselves into the bed of folly, among dreams, 
and broken thoughts, and wild imaginations. Our reason lies 
asleep by us, and we are for the time as arrant brutes as those that 
sleep in the stalls, or in the field. Are not the capacities of man 
higher than these? And ought not his ambition and expectations 
to be greater? Let us be adventurers for another world. It is at 
least a fair and noble chance; and there is nothing in this worth 
our thoughts or our passions. If we should be disappointed, we 
are still no worse than the rest of our fellow-mortals'; and if we 
succeed in our expectations, we are eternally happy. 

ISttqiiette, — Shakspedre. 

Unbidden Guests 
Are often welcomest when they are gone. 

lEbaj&m. — Lavater. 

"INVASIONS are the common shelter of the hard-hearted, the false, 
and impotent, when called upon to assist; the real great alone 
plan instantaneous help, even when their looks or words presage 

l^benmg. — Byron. 
TT is the Hour when from the boughs 

The Nightingale's high note is heard; 
It is the Hour when lover's vows 
Seem sweet in every whisper'd word; 
And gentle winds, and waters near, 
Make music to the lonely ear. 



libenmg.— Byron. 
MABIA! blessed be the Hour! 
The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft 
Have felt that moment in its fullest power 

Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, 
While swung the deep bell in the distant tower, 

Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, 
And not a breath crept through the rosy air, 
And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer. 
Soft Hour! which wakes the wish and melts the heart 

Of those who sail the seas, on the first day 
When they from their sweet friends are toru apart; 

Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way 
As the far bell of Vesper makes him start, 

Seeming to weep the dying day's decay; 
Is this a fancy which our reason scorns? 
Ah ! surely nothing dies but something mourns! 

l£uentng. — Montgomery. 
T LOVE thee, Twilight! for thy gleams impart 
Their dear, their dying influence to my heart, 
When o'er the harp of thought thy passing wind 
Awakens all the music of the mind, 
And joy and sorrow, as the spirit burns, 
And hope and memory sweep the chords by turns. 

ISbenmg Rt\DS. — Chesteijieid. 

The Dews of the Evening most carefully shun; 
Those tears of the sky for the loss of the sun. 

ISbil. — Cotton. 
T ADMIT the existence of Evil to its full extent, and I also admit 
my own Ignorance, which is not the least part of the Evil I 
deplore. I also find in the midst of all this Evil, a tolerably fair 
proportion of Good. I can discover that I did not make myself, 
and also that the Being that did make me, has shown a degree 
of power and of wisdom far beyond my powers of comprehension. 
I can also see so much Good proceeding from his system even here, 
that I am inclined to love him; but I can see so much Evil, that I 
am inclined also to fear him. I find myself a compound being, 
made up of Body and Mind, and the union is so intimate, that the 
one appears to perish at the dissolution of the other. In attempt- 
ing to reconcile this last Evil, Death, and the many more that lead 
to it, with the wisdom, power, and goodness that I see displayed on 
many other occasions, I find that I have strong aspirings after a 
state that may survive this apparent dissolution, and I find that I 
have this feeling in common with all the rest of my species; I find 


also, on looking within, that I have a mind capable of much higher 
delight than matter or earth can afford. On looking still more 
closely into myself, I find every reason to believe that this is the 
first state of existence I ever enjoyed; I can recollect no other, 
I am conscious of no other. Here then I stand as upon a point 
acknowledged, that this world is the first stage of existence to that 
compound animal Man, and that it is to him at least the first link 
in that order of things in which Mind is united to Matter. 

ISbtl, — Horace. 

Better one thorn pluck'd out than all remain. 

IHbtl Chalmers. 

~DY the very constitution of our nature, Moral Evil is its own 

lEbtL— South. 
TTE who will fight the Devil at his own weapon, must not wonder 
if he finds him an overmatch. 

lEbtl.— Anon. 
AS there is a law of continuity, whereby in ascending we can 
only mount step by step, so is there a law of continuity, 
whereby they who descend must sink, and that too with an ever 
increasing velocity. No propagation or multiplication is more rapid 
than that of Evil, unless it be checked j no growth more certain. He 
who is in for a Penny, to take another expression belonging to the 
same family, if he does not resolutely fly, will find he is in for a Pound. 

IsfctL — Horace. 

Fire, for a short time neglected, acquires irresistible force. 

ISblL — Menander. 
A LL animals are more happy than Man. Look, for instance, on 
yonder ass : all allow him to be miserable : his Evils, however, 
are not brought on by himself and his own fault; he feels only 
those which Nature has inflicted. We, on the contrary, besides 
our necessary Ills, draw upon ourselves a multitude of others. We 
are melancholy if any person happen to sneeze ; we are angry if 
any speak reproachfully of us; one man is affrighted with an un- 
lucky dream, another at the hooting of an owl. Our Contentions, 
our Anxieties, our Opinions, our Ambition, our Laws, are all Evils, 
which we ourselves have superadded to Nature. 

iSbtl. — Shdkspeare. 
Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word 

ISbtL — Colton. 
THERE is this of good in real Evils, — they deliver us, while they 
last, from the petty despotism of all that were imaginary. 


Wbih — CoUon. 

"PYILS in the journey of life are like the hills which alarm 
travellers upon their road ; they both appear great at a dis- 
tance, but when we approach them we find that they are far less 
insurmountable than we had conceived. 

3SutL — La Rochefoucauld. 
THERE are no circumstances, however unfortunate, that clever 
people do not extract some advantage from. 

ISxampU. — Proctor. 

I know not how it is ; 
But a foreboding presses on my heart, 
At times, until I sicken. — I have heard, 
And from men learned, that before the touch 
(The common, coarser touch) of Good, or 111, — 
That oftentimes a subtler sense informs 
Some spirits of the approach of "things to be." 

IZxamylt. — Cicero. 

T>E a Pattern to others, and then all will go well ; for as a whole 
city is infected by the licentious passions and vices of great 
men, so it is likewise reformed by their moderation. 

ISxample. — Juvenal 
"PXAMPLES of vicious courses, practised in a domestic circle, 
corrupt more readily and more deeply, when we behold them 
in persons in authority. 

ISiample. — Goldsmith. 
"PEOPLE seldom improve, when they have no other Model but 
themselves to copy after. 

ISxecllmg. — Coiton. 

TF you want Enemies, excel others; if you want Friends, let others 
excel you. 

ISlCeUtltg. — La Bruyere. 
TTE who excels in his art so as to carry it to the utmost height 
of perfection of which it is capable, may be said in some 
measure to go beyond it; his transcendent productions admit of no 

IZXttm. — Horace. 
TTIE Body oppressed by Excesses, bears down the Mind, and de- 
presses to the earth any portion of the divine Spirit we had 
been endowed with. 


l^ITCSSi. — Tacitus. 
yiTELLIUS possessed all that Pliability and Liberality, which, 
when not restrained within due Bounds, must ever turn to the 
ruin of their possessor. 

IHlCeSS. — Shdkspeare. 
TTEOLENT fires soon burn out themselves. 

Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; 
He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes ; 
With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder; 
Light Vanity, insatiate Cormorant, 
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. 

ISlCCSS.— Knox. 
HPHE misfortune is, that when man has found honey, he enters 
upon the feast with an appetite so voracious, that he usuallv 
destroys his own delight by Excess and Satiety. 

IHlCeSS. — Shakspeare. 
"pVERY Inordinate Cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a 

?irCCSS. _ Colton. 
T'HE Excesses of our youth are drafts upon our old age, payable 
with interest, about thirty years after date. 

IHlTttntUnt. — Goldsmith. 
T>UT me, not destined such delights to share, 

My prime of life in wandering spent and care : 
Impell'd, with steps unceasing, to pursue 
Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view; 
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies, 
Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies; 
My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, 
And find no spot of all the world my own. 

iBnttal yiXtiUmtnt. — Montaigne. 
HPHE beasts show us plainly how much our diseases are owing 
to the Perturbations of our Minds. We are told that the in- 
habitants of Brazil die merely of old age, owing to the serenity and 
tranquillity of the air in which they live; but I ascribe it rather to 
the Serenity and Tranquillity of their Souls, which are free from all 
Passion, Thought, or laborious and unpleasant Employment. As 
great enmities spring from great friendships, and mortal distempers 
from vigorous health, so do the most surprising and the wildest 
phrensies from the high and lively Agitations of our Souls. 


ISmCKfe. — Coivper. 
HPHE Sedentary stretch their lazy length 

When custom bids, but no refreshment find, — 
For none they need : the languid eye, the cheek 
Deserted of its bloom, the flaccid, shrunk, 
And wither' d muscle, and the vapid soul, 
Reproach their owner with that Love of Rest 
To which he forfeits e'en the Rest he loves. 

ISipeCtattCm. — Shakspcare. 

How slow, 
This old moon wanes : she lingers my desires, 
Like to a step-dame, or a dowager, 
Long withering out a young man's revenue. 

ISxpeCtattOn. — Mrs. Tighe. 
OH ! how Impatience gains upon the soul 

When the long-promised hour of joy draws near! 
How slow the tardy moments seem to roll ! 

What spectres rise of inconsistent fear ! 

To the fond doubting heart its hopes appear 
Too brightly fair, too sweet to realize : 

All seem but day-dreams of delight too dear ! 
Strange hopes and fears in painful contest rise, 
While the scarce-trusted bliss seems but to cheat the eyes. 

Oft Expectation fails, and most oft there 
Where most it promises : and oft it hits 
Where Hope is coldest, and Despair most sits. 

^Expectations. —Martial. 
VOU give me nothing during your life, but you promise to pro- 
vide for me at your death. If you are not a fool, you know 
what I wish for. 

lExpeCtattun. — Shakspeare. 
So tedious is this day, 
As is the night before some festival 
To an impatient child, that hath new robes, 
And may not wear them. 

ISxpettge. —Franklin. 
VyrilAT maintains one vice would bring up two children. You 
may think, perhaps, that a little tea, or a little punch now 
and then, diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little 
entertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remem- 
ber, Many a little makes a mickle. Beware of little expenses. A 


small leak will sink a great ship, as Poor llicbard says; and again, 
Who dainties love, shall beggars prove; and moreover, Fools make 
feasts, and wise men eat them. 

ISiperietTCe. — Sir P. Sidney. 
All is but L : p-wisdom which wants Experience. 

IBxpettence. — Shakspeare. 
TTE cannot be a perfect man, 

Not being tried, and tutor'd in the world : 
Experience is by Industry achieved, 
And perfected by the swift course of Time. 

iBxperieitCe. — Shakspeare. 
Our own precedent passions do instruct us 
What levity's in youth. 

ISxperiettCe* — Terence. 
"^"0 man was ever endowed with a judgment so correct and judi- 
cious, in regulating his life, but that Circumstances, Time, and 
Experience, would teach him something new, and apprize him that 
of those things with which he thought himself the best acquainted, 
he knew uothing; and that those ideas, which in theory appeared 
the most advantageous, were found, when brought into practice, to 
be altogether inapplicable. 

ISiperiettCe Coleridge. 

TO most men Experience is like the stern-lights of a ship, which 
illumine only the track it has passed. 

^Experience. — Shakspeare. 

To wilful men, 
The injuries that they themselves procure, 
Must be their schoolmasters. 

^Experience. — Green. 
Experience join'd with Common Sense, 
To mortals is a Providence. 

^Experience. — Byron. 
^DVERSITY is the first path to Truth. 

He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage, 
Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty, 
Hath won the Experience which is deem'd so weighty. 

iEXteWaliS. — Johnson. 
TN civilized society, External Advantages make us more respected. 
A man with a good coat upon his back meets with a better re- 
ception than he who has a bad one. You may analyze this and 
say, what is there in it? But that will avail you nothing, for it 
is a part of a general system. Pound St. Paul's church into atoms, 


and consider any single atom ; it is, to be sure, good for nothing : 
but put all these atoms together, and you have St. Paul's church. So 
it is with human felicity, which is made up of many ingredients, 
each of which may be shown to be very insignificant. 

ISxttabagance. — Pope. 

~POR what has Virro painted, built, and planted? 

Only to show how many tastes he wanted. 
What brought Sir Visto's ill-got wealth to waste ? 
Some demon whisper'd, Visto has a taste ! 

ISxtrabagance.— Young. 

The man who builds, and wants wherewith to pay, 
Provides a home from which to run away. 

CfjeiEge. — Addison. 
A BEAUTIFUL Eye makes Silence eloquent, a kind Eye makes 
Contradiction an assent, an enraged Eye makes Beauty de- 
formed. This little Member gives life to every other part about 
us ; and I believe the story of Argus implies no more, than that 
the Eye is in every part ; that is to say, every other part would be 
mutilated were not its force represented more by the Eye than even 
by itself. 

Cije ^t.— Moore. 
'THOSE Eyes, whose light seem'd rather given 

To be adored than to adore — 
Such Eyes, as may have look'd from Heaven, 
But ne'er were raised to it before ! 

jFattl).— Anon. 
J7NTIBENESS, illimitableness is indispensable to Faith. What 
we believe, we must believe wholly and without reserve ; where- 
fore the only perfect and satisfying object of Faith is God. A Faith 
that sets bounds to itself, that will believe so much and no more, 
that will trust thus far and no farther, is none. 

JjPattf) Anon. 

T'HE power of Faith will often shine forth the most, where the 
character is naturally weak. There is less to intercept and in- 
terfere with its workings. 

jFatti). — Addison. 
r FHE natural homage which such a creature as Man bears to an 
infinitely wise and good God, is a firm Reliance on him for the 
blessings and conveniences of life, and an habitual Trust in him for 
deliverance out of all such dangers and difficulties as may befall us. 
The man who always lives in this disposition of mind, when he 
reflects upon his own weakness and imperfection, comforts himself 



with the contemplation of those Divine attributes which are em- 
ployed for his safety and welfare. He finds his want of foresight 
made up by the omniscience of him who is his support. He is now 
sensible of his own want of strength when he knows that his Helper 
is Almighty. In short, the person who has a firm Trust on the 
Supreme Being, is powerful in his power, wise by his wisdom, 
happy by his happiness. 

ILOSS Of jFaify. — ShaJcspeare. 

Pray can I not, 
Though inclination be as sharp as will; 
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; 
And, like a man to double business bound, 
I stand in pause where I shall first begin, 
And both neglect. 

dFattf) anti ttMnxks. — Coiton. 

\\TE should act with as much energy, as those who expect every 
thing from themselves; and we should pray with as much 
earnestness as those who expect every thing from God. 

jFrtentis df ailing oft. — s/mkspeare. 

'THEY answer, in a joint and corporate voice, 

That now they are at Fall, want treasure, cannot 
Do what they would; are sorry — you are honourable, — 
But yet they could have wish'd — they know not — but 
Something hath been amiss' d — a noble nature 
May catch a wrench — would all were well — 'tis pity — 
And so, intending other serious matters, 
After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions, 
With certain half-caps, and cold-moving nods, 
They froze me into silence. 

.jFatefwofc,— Cotton. 

FALSEHOOD is never so successful as when she baits her hook 
with Truth, and that no opinions so fatally mislead us, as those 
that are not wholly wrong, as no watches so effectually deceive the 
wearer, as those that are sometimes right. 

jFalSe icCCUritj). — S/iakspeare. 

We hear this fearful tempest sing, 
Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm; 
We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, 
And yet we strike not, but securely perish. 

jfamt. — Mallet 
I courted Fame but as a spur to brave 
And honest deeds; and who despises Fame, 
Will soon renounce the virtues that deserve it. 


$ amc. — Cotton. 

f\Y present Fame think little and of future less; the Praises that 
we receive after we are buried, like the posies that are strewed 
over our grave, may be gratifying to the living, but they are no- 
thing to the dead ; the dead are gone, either to a place where they 
hear them not, or where, if they do, they will despise them. 

jFame. — Sterne. 
'THE way to Fame is like the way to Heaven — through much 

jFawe. — Shakspeare. 
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes; 
"When, for Fame's sake, for Praise, an outward part, 
We bend to that the working of the heart. 

Jfame. — Shakspeare. 
TF a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he 
shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings, and the 
widow weeps. 

jfamt, — Shakspeare. 
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; 
For now he lives in Fame, though not in life. 

,-fFcime. — Shakspeare. 
The Evil, that men do, lives after them; 
The Good is oft interred with their bones. 

,-ffamc. — Byron, 

fanes, thy temple, to the surface bow, 
Commingling slowly with heroic earth, 
Broke by the share of every rustic plough : 
So perish Monuments of mortal Birth, 
To perish all in turn, save well-recorded Worth. 

JFamt.— Byron. 

HAT of them is left, to tell 
Where they lie, and how they fell? 
Not a stone on their turf, nor a bone in their graves; 
But they live in the Verse that immortally saves. 

jpatlte.— Moore. 

T^7"HO, that surveys this span of earth we press, 
This speck of life in time's great wilderness, 
This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, 
The past, the future, two eternities! — 
Would sully the bright spot or leave it bare, 
When he might build him a proud Temple there, 
A Name, that long shall hallow all its space, 
And be each purer soul's high rcstiug-place ! 




df ante. — Shdkipeare. 
Men's Evil Manners live in brass : their Virtues 
We write in water. 

jf&mz. — Shenstojie. 
AH me ! full sorely is my heart forlorn 

To think how modest Worth neglected lies, 
While partial Fame doth with her blasts adorn 
Such deeds alone, as Pride and Pomp disguise, 
Deeds of ill sort, and mischievous emprise. 

Jatne, — Byron. 
"TIS as a snowball which derives assistance 

From every flake, and yet rolls on the same, 
Even till an iceberg it may chance to grow ; 
But after all 'tis nothing but cold snow. 

JPame. — Young. 
f\F boasting more than of a bomb afraid, 
A soldier should be modest as a maid : 
Fame is a bubble the reserved enjoy; 
Who strive to grasp it, as they touch, destroy ; 
'Tis the w jrld's debt to deeds of high degree; 
But if \ a pay yourself, the world is free. 

J^ame. — Young. 
Fa vie is a public mistress, none enjoys, 
Hat, more or less, his rival's peace destroys. 

dFame. — Pope. 

TyHAT'S Fame ? a fancied life in others' breath, 

A thing beyond us, even before our death. 
Just what you hear, you have ; and what's unknown, 
The same, my lord, if Tully's, or your own. 
All that we feel of it begins and ends 
In the small circle of our foes or friends; 
To all beside as much an empty shade 
An Eugene living, as a Caesar dead. 

jf am. — Milton. 
"UAME is the spur that the clear sp'rit doth raise 

(That last infirmity of noble mind) 
To scorn delights, and live laborious days; 
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, 
And think to burst out into sudden blaze, 
Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorr'd shears, 
And slits the thin-spun life. 


Uttcrati? jFamr. — Voiiaire. 

HPHE path to Literary Fame is more difficult than that which 
leads to Fortune. If you are so unfortunate as not to soar 
above mediocrity, remorse is your portion; if you succeed in your 
object, a host of enemies spring up around you : thus you find 
yourself on the brink of an abyss between Contempt and Hatred. 

££XorttJlj) jfame. — JoJni Qui, icy Adams. 
T7AME, that common crier, whose existence is only known by the 
assemblage of multitudes; that pander of wealth and greatness, 
so eager to haunt the palaces of fortune, and so fastidious to the 
houseless dignity of virtue ; that parasite of pride, ever scornful to 
meekness, and ever obsequious to insolent power; that heedless 
trumpeter, whose ears are deaf to modest merit, and whose eyes are 
blind to bloodless, distant excellence. 

dFaitCg. — Shakspeare. 
All impediments in Fancy's course 
Are motives of more Fancy. 

.jFacetoell atttJ WLtltOmt. — Shakspeare. 
TIME is like a fashionable host, 

That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand ; 
And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly, 
Grasps in the comer ; Welcome ever smiles, 
And Farewell goes out sighing. 

jFollotorrS Of Jfasijton. — Ji/i«?a' Anglic. 
An empty, thoughtless tribe. 

jFaSffjUm.— GreviOe. 

YVE laugh heartily to see a whole flock of sheep jump because 
one did so : might not one imagine that superior beings do 
the same by us, and for exactly the same reason. 

dfasfjtOTt. — Byron. 
TN the Great World — which being interpreted 

Meaneth the West end of a city, 
And about twice two thousand people bred 

By no means to be very wise or witty, 
But to sit up while others lie in bed, 

And look down on the Universe with pity. 

JfaBf)i(in.— Byron. 
The Company is " mixed," (the phrase I quote is 
As much as saying, they're below your notice.) 

jFagjUm. — ChurchiU. 

Fashion, a word which knaves and fools may use 
Their knavery and folly to excuse. 


jFaSljtOlt. — Shdkspeare. 
Where doth the World thrust forth a Vanity, 
(So it be knew, there's no respect how vile,) 
That is not quickly buzz'd into the ears ? 

jFate. — Horace. 
T^TITH equal foot, rich friend, impartial Fate, 
Knocks at the cottage and the palace gate : 
Life's span forbids thee to extend thy cares, 
And stretch thy hopes, beyond thy destined years: 
Night soon will seize, and you must quickly go 
To storied ghosts, and Pluto's house below. 

^Faults. — Shdkspeare. 
TF little Faults, proceeding on Distemper, 

Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye, 
When Capital Crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested, 
Appear before us? 

dFabmir* — LaBruyere. 

"PAVOUR exalts a man above his equals, but his dismissal from 
that Favour places him below them. 

dfabOUtS. — Publius Syrus. 
TT is conferring a kindness, to deny at once a Favour which you 
intend to refuse. 

dFate Of JfBStoWtiXt&. — Shakspeare. 
/^J-EEAT Princes' Favourites their fair leaves spread, 

But as the marigold, at the sun's eye; 
And in themselves their pride lies buried, 

For at a frown tney in their glory die. 
The painful warrior famoused for fight, 
After a thousand victories once foil'd, 
Is from the Book of Honour razed quite, 
And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd. 

df eai. — Shaftesbury. 
'THE passion of Fear (as a modern philosopher informs me) de- 
termines the spirits to the muscles of the knees, which are 
instantly ready to perform their motion, by taking up the legs with 
incomparable celerity, in order to remove the body out of harm's 

Jfear. — Montaigne. 
'THE thing in the world I am most afraid of is Fear; and with 
good reason, that Passion alone, in the trouble of it, exceeding 
all other accidents. 


jFcai". — Shakspeare. 
I find the people strangely fantasied ; 
Possess' d with Rumours, full of idle Dreams; 
Not knowing what they fear, but full of Fear. 

$Z8X. — Shalcspeare. 

But that I am forbid 
To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; 
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres; 
Thy knotted and combined locks to part, 
And each particular hair to stand on end, 
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. 

jft ar. — Shakspeare. 
HTHIS man's brow, like to a title-leaf, 

Foretells the nature of a tragic volume : 
So looks the strond, whereon the imperious flood 
Hath left a witness'd usurpation. 
Thou trerablest; and the Whiteness in thy Cheek 
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. 
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, 
So dull, so dead in look, so wo-begone, 
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, 
And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd. 

iGf)Clj3tlj} jftZX. — Shakspeare. 

What man dare, I dare : 
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, 
The arm'd Rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger, 
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves 
Shall never tremble : or, be alive again, 
And dare me to the desert with thy sword; 
If trembling I inhibit thee, protest me 
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow ! 
Unreal Mockery, hence ! 

Hnmanlg dFear. — miton. 

Be not over exquisite 
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils: 
For grant they be so, while they rest unknown, 
What need a man forestall his date of grief, 
And run to meet what he would most avoid? 

jFcaSttng. — Peter Pindar. 
The turnpike road to people's hearts, I find, 
Lies through their Mouths, or I mistake mankind 


dFeaSttng. — Clarendon. 
TT is not the quantity of the Meat, but the cheerfulness of the 
guests, which makes the Feast; at the Feast of the Centaurs, 
they ate with one hand, and had their drawn swords in the other; 
where there is no peace, there can be no Feast. 

pasting. — Peter Pindar. 
yEN'SON'S a Caesar in the fiercest fray; 

Turtle ! an Alexander in its way : 
And then, in quarrels of a slighter nature, 
Mutton's a most successful mediator ! 
So much superior is the stomach's smart 
To all the vaunted horrors of the heart. 
E'en Love, who often triumphs in his grief, 
Hath ceased to feed on sighs, to pant on beef. 

dFeaStmg. — Peter Pindar. 
T OWN that nothing like Good Cheer succeeds — 

A man's a God whose hogshead freely bleeds : 
Champagne can consecrate the damned'st evil ; 
A hungry Parasite adores a Devil. 

JfzmtiXi^— Byron. 
"PUT 'twas a public Feast, and public day — 

Quite full, right dull, guests hot, and Dishes cold, 
Great plenty, much formality, small Cheer, 
And everybody out of their own sphere. 

$ZM\iXl%. — Byron. 

Op all appeals, — although 

I grant the power of pathos, and of gold, 

Of beauty, flattery, threats, a shilling, — no 

Method's more sure at moments to take hold 
Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow 

More tender, as we every day behold, 
Than that all-softening, overpow'ring knell, 
The tocsin of the soul — the Dinner Bell. 

dfeeitltfi.— BicJUer. 

'THE last, best fruit which comes to late perfection, even in the 
kindliest soul, is, Tenderness toward the hard, Forbearance to- 
ward the unforbearing, Warmth of Heart toward the cold, Philan- 
thropy toward the misanthropic. 

jFeeltttg. — Sterne. 
A WORD — a Look, which at one time would make no impression 
— at another time wounds the Heart; and like a shaft flying 
with the wind, pierces deep, which, with its own n?tural force, 
would scarce have reached the object aimed at. 


dFeeltng. — Ooiton. 

TT is far more easy not to feel, than always to feel rightly, and not 
to act, than always to act well. For he that is determined to 
admire only that which is beautiful, imposes a much harder task 
upon himself, than ho that being determined not to see that which 
is the contrary, effects it by simply shutting his eyes. 

deling. — Shakspeare. 

Hero ! what a Hero had'st thou been, 
If half thy outward graces had been placed 
About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy Heart. 

dueling. — La Rochefoucauld. 
T^THEN the Heart is still agitated by the remains of a Passion, 
we are more ready to receive a new one than when we are 
entirely cured. 

jfulinQ. — Bi/ron. 
J WISH'D but for a single Tear, 

As something welcome, new, and dear ; 

1 wish/d it then, I wish it still, 
Despair is stronger than my will. 

dueling. — Byron. 

In a gushing stream 
The Tears rush'd forth from her unclouded Brain 
Like mountain mists, at length dissolved in rain. 

dFeelmg. _ Shakspeare. 
\TTHY does my Blood thus muster to my Heart, 

Making both that unable for itself, 
And dispossessing all my other parts 
Of necessary fitness ? 

So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons ; 
Come all to help hi in, and so stop the air 
By which he should revive. 

jfc eltng. — Shakspeare. 
How sometimes Nature will betray its Folly, 
Its Tenderness, and make itself a pistime 
To harder bosoms ! 

dFeelmg anfc TtiizMm.—Ziegier. 

r rHE Heart of Man is older than his He?d. The ftrsf-born is 
sensitive, but blind — his younger brother has a cold, but all- 
comprehensive glance. The blind must consent to be led by tho 
clear-sighted, if he would avoid falling. 

££tant of jFtclinq.— Juvenal 

Who can all sense of others' ills escape, 
Is but a brute, at best, in human shape. 


jfecltng anti Keason.— Anon. 

QOME people carry their Hearts in their Heads ; very many carry 
their Heads in their Hearts. The difficulty is to keep them 
apart, and yet both actively working together. 

jFtCfeleneSlS. — Shakspeare. 
YITOULD I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, 
changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, 
shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles ; for every passion 
something, and for no passion truly any thing, as boys and women 
are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like him, 
now loath him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep 
for him, then spit at him. 

.jFffcJClttjt). — Shakspeare. 
He that can endure 
To follow with Allegiance a fallen lord, 
Does conquer him that did his master conquer, 
And earns a place i' the story. 

dFtMttp. — Shakspeare. 

I'll yet follow 
The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason 
Sits in the wind against me. 

jFttielttg. — Shakspeare. 
But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic; 
And Manhood is called Foolery, when it stands 
Against a falling fabric. 

jf f&elttg. — Shakspeare. 
TTIS Words are bonds, his Oaths are Oracles; 

His Love sincere, his Thoughts immaculate, 
His Tears, pure messengers sent from his Heart; 
His Heart as far from Fraud as heaven from earth. 

dFtMtt£. — Shakspeare. 
'JHOUGH all the world should crack their Duty 

And throw it from their soul ; though perils did 
Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and 
Appear in forms more horrid ; yet my duty, 
As doth a rock against the chiding flood, 
Should the approach of the wild river break, 
And stand unshaken yours 

jFiMttJ}- — Shakspeare. 
I aim constant as the Northern Star, 
Of whose true-fix'd, and resting Quality, 
There is no fellow in the firmament. 


^FtMttg. — Shakspeare. 
T DURST, my lord, to wager she is honest, 

Lay down my soul at stake : if you think other, 
Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. 
If any wretch hath put this in your head, 
Let Heaven requite it with the serpent's curse ! 
For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, 
There's no man happy : the purest of their wives 
Is foul as slander. 

jFltldttj). — Shakspeare. 

Heaven ! were Man 

But constant, he were perfect : that one Error 
Fills him with faults. 

dFttielttJ). —Shakspeare. 
TTE which hath no stomach to this fight, 

Let him depart, his passport shall be made, 
And crowns for convoy put into his purse : 
We would not die in that man's company, 
That fears his fellowship to die with us. 

1 speak not this, as doubting any here : 
For, did I but suspect a fearful man, 

He should have leave to go away betimes ; 
Lest, in our need, he might infect another, 
And make hi in of like spirit to himself. 
If any such be here, as God forbid ! 
Let him depart, before we need his help. 

dFfijelttj). — Shakspeare. 
TF to preserve this vessel for my lord, 

From any other foul unlawful touch, 
Be — not to be a strumpet, I am none. 
False to his bed ! What is it to be false ? 
To lie in watch there, and to think on him ? 
To weep 'twixt clock and clock ? if sleep charge nature, 
To break it with a fearful dream of him, 
And cry myself awake ? that's false to his bed, 
Is it? 

Unkindness may do much ; 
And his unkindness may defeat my life, 
But never taint my love. 

^Ftutlttg.— Moore. 
fX)ME rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer ! 

Tho' the herd hath fled from thee, thy home is still here ; 
Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, 
And the Heart and the Hand all thy own to the Last ! 


jFtMttg. — Shakspeare. 
Chain nie with roaring bears ; 
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, 
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, 
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless skulls; 
Or bid me go into a new-made grave, 
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud ; 
Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble ; 
And I will do it without Fear or Doubt, 
To live an unstain'd Wife of my sweet Love. 

dFtMttg. — Byron. 

HPHOUGH human, thou didst not deceive me, 

Though woman, thou didst not forsake, 
Though loved, thou foreborest to grieve me, 

Though slander'd, thou never couldst shake, — 
Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me, 

Though parted, it was not to fly, 
Though watchful, 'twas not to defame me, 
Nor, mute, that the World might belie. 

jFtnerg. — Shakspeare. 
All that glisters is not Gold, 
Gilded Tombs do Worms infold. 

dFtriSt ^mpreiSS tOltS. — Horace. 
What season'd first the Vessel, keeps the Taste. 

jFlattetg. — Anon. 
When Flatterers meet, the Devil goes to Dinner. 

^f lattcrg. — Greville. 
YY'E d° not always like people the better, for paying us all the 
Court which we ourselves think our due. 

dHatterp.— Coiton. 

pLATTERY is often a traffic of mutual Meanness, where, 
although both parties intend Deception, neither are deceived. 
dFiatterj). — Jean Paul. 
Men find it more easy to Flatter than to Praise. 
dFlattCtg. — Shakspeare. 

He loves to hear, 
That Unicorns may be betray'd with trees, 
And Bears with glasses, Elephants with holes, 
Lions with toils, and Men with Flatterers : 
But, when I tell him, he hates Flatterers, 
He says, he does ; being then most Flatter'd. 
dFlatterj). — Shakspeare. 
He that loves to be Flattered is worthy o' the Flatterer. 


dFlatterj). _ Shakspeare. 

Be not fond, 
To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood, 
That will be thaw'd from the true quality 
With that which melteth Fools : I mean, Sweet Words, 
Low-crook'd Curt'sies, and base Spaniel Fawning. 

jFlattetg. — Shakspeare. 

You play the Spaniel, 
And think with wagging of your Tongue to win me. 

df lattetj). — Shakspeare. 

Why these looks of Care ? 
Thy Flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft; 
Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot 
That ever Timon was. Shame not these words, 
By putting on the cunning of a Carper. 
Be thou a Flatterer now, and seek to thrive 
By that which has undone thee : hinge thy Knee, 
And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe, 
Blow off thy cap ; praise his most vicious strain, 
And call it excellent. 

dFlatteCg. — Shakspeare. 
A H ! when the means are gone, that buy this Praise, 

The Breath is gone whereof this Praise is made : 
Feast-one, fast-lost ; one cloud of winter showers, 
These flies are couch'd. 

jFlattetJ). — Shakspeare. 
Why, what a deal of candied Courtesy, 
This fawning Greyhound then did proffer me ! 
The Devil take such Cozeners ! — God forgive me ! 

dFlattetg. — Shakspeare. 
No visor does become black Villany 
So well as soft and tender Flattery. 

dFlatterp, — otway. 

"YTO Flatt'ry, boy ! an honest man can't live by't : 

It is a little sneaking art, which knaves 
Use to cajole and soften fools withal. 
If thou hast Flatt'ry in thy nature, out with't; 
Or send it to a court, for there 'twill thrive. 

dFlattetp. — Hannah More. 
No Adulation : 'tis the death of Virtue ! 
Who flatters is of all mankind the lowest, 
Save he who courts the Flattery. 


dFlatterg. — Shakspeare. 
My beauty, though but mean, 
Needs not the painted flourish of your Praise. 
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, 
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues. 

irttnglp jflSitUX$. — Shakspeare. 
THEY do abuse the King that flatter him: 
For Flattery is the bellows blows up sin; 
The thing the which is flatter'd, but a spark, 
To which that breath gives heat and stronger glowing; 
Whereas reproof, obedient and in order, 
Fits Kings, as they are Men, for they may err. 

Ci)e dfOOl. — Goethe. 
QF all thieves Fools are the worst : they rob you of time and 

&{)e dFOOL — La Bruyere. 
A Fool cannot look, nor stand, nor walk like a man of sense. 

^Tjie jffOOL — Anon. 
JJE must be a thorough Fool who can learn nothing from his 
own Folly. 

jpOllitft. — La Rochefoucauld. 
There are Follies as catching as contagious disorders. 

dFolljD. — Hare. 
None but a Fool is always right. 

JftS \\)).— Horace. 
When free from Folly, we to Wisdom rise. 

jfnlln. _ Colton. 
A FOOL is often as dangerous to deal with as a Knave, and 
always more incorrigible. 

.^Follj). — Shakspeare. 
^"ONE are so surely caught, when they are catch'd, 
As Wit turn'd Fool : Folly, in Wisdom hatch'd, 
Hath Wisdom's warrant, and the help of school ; 
And Wit's own grace, to grace a learned Fool. 
The blood of youth burns not with such excess, 
As Gravity's revolt to wantonness. 
Folly in Fools bears not so strong a note, 
As Foolery in the wise, when Wit doth dote; 
Since all the power thereof it doth apply, 
To prove, by Wit, worth in Simplicity. 


dfaPP^g.— Johnson. 

I70PPERY is never cured; it is the bad stamina of the mind, 
which, like those of the body, are never rectified; once a 
Coxcomb, and always a Coxcomb. 

^Forbearance. —Epictetus. 

T^VERY thing hath two handles : the one soft and manageable, 
the other such as will not endure to be touched. If then your 
brother do you an injury, do not take it by the hot and hard handle, 
by representing to yourself all the aggravating circumstances of 
the fact; but look rather on the soft side, and extenuate it as 
much as is possible, by considering the nearness of the relation, 
and the long friendship and familiarity between you — obligations 
to kindness which a single provocation ought not to dissolve. And 
thus you will take the accident by its manageable handle. 

^Forbearance. — shakspeare. 

Use every man after his desert, and who shall 'scape whipping? 

^Foreign influence. — Washington. 

A GAINST the insidious wiles of foreign influence, the jealousy 
of a free people ought to be constantly awake; since history 
and experience prove, that foreign influence is one of the most 
baneful foes of republican government. 


A CCUSTOM yourself to submit on all and every occasion, and 
on the most minute, no less than on the most important cir- 
cumstances of life, to a small Present Evil, to obtain a greater 
Distant Good. This will give decision, tone, and energy to the 
Mind, which, thus disciplined, will often reap victory from defeat, 
and honour from repulse. 

jForeSt'gfjt. — Shakspeare. 
To fear the worst, oft cures the worst. 

dForgtbenejSSS. — Shakspeare. 

Kneel not to me : 
The power that I have on you, is to spare you ; 
The malice towards you, to forgive you : live, 
And deal with others better. 

dForgtbcneSS. — Shakspeare. 


THOUGH with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, 
Yet, with my nobler Reason, against my — 

Do I take part : the rarer action is 
In Virtue than in Vengeance 


jFQtm$. — Hare. 

f~\¥ what use are Forms, seeing that at times they are empty ? 
Of the same use as barrels, which at times are empty too. 

dFortttUto. — Shakspeare. 

Bid that welcome 
Which comes to punish us, aud we punish it, 
Seeming to bear it lightly. 

.jFortltlrtie. — Shakspeare. 
T/tTISE men ne'er sit and wail their loss, 

But cheerty seek how to redress their harms. 
What though the mast be now blown overboard, 
The cable broke, the holding anchor lost, 
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood ? 
Yet lives our Pilot still : Is it meet, that he 
Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad, 
With tearful eyes add water to the sea, 
And give more strength to that which hath too much; 
Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on a rock, 
Which industry and courage might have saved ? 

dFortttUtre. — Shakspeare. 
The Mind I sway by, and the Heart I bear, 
Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with Fear. 

$KX\\iVfot. — Byron. 

T£XISTENCE may be borne, and the deep root 
Of life and Sufferance make its firm abode 

In bare and desolated bosoms : mute . 

The camel labours with the heaviest load, 
And the wolf dies in silence, — not bestow'd 

In vain should such example be; if they, 
Things of ignoble or of savage mood, 

Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay 

May temper it to bear, — it is but for a day. 

jFortttUtie. — Shakspeare. 
Though Fortune's malice overthrow my state, 
My Mind exceeds the compass of her wheel. 

jFortttUtre. — Channing. 
HPHE greatest man is he who chooses the right with invincib.e 
Resolution ; who resists the sorest temptations from within and 
without; who bears the heaviest burdens cheerfully ; who is the 
calmest in storms, and whose reliance on Truth, on Virtue, on God, 
is the most unfaltering. 


jFortitlrtie. —Byron. 
TTAVE I not had my brain sear'd, ray heart riven, 

Hopes sapp'd, name blighted, life's life lied away ? 
And only not to Desperation driven, 
Because not altogether of such clay, 
As rots into the souls of those whom I survey. 

^Fortunate f&tn. — Cicero. 

'FHE man who is always Fortunate cannot easily have a great 
reverence for Virtue. 

^Fortune. — Shdkspeare. 
TyiLL Fortune never come with both hands full, 

But write her fair words still in foulest letters? 
She either gives a stomach, and no food, — 
Such are the poor in health • or else a feast, 
And takes away the stomach, — such the rich, 
That have abundance, and enjoy it not. 

^Fortune. — Thomson. 
Oft, what seems 
A trifle, a mere nothing, by itself, 
In some nice situations, turns the scale 
Of Fate, and rules the most important actions. 

^Fortune. — Shakspeare. 
Of Nature's Gifts thou may'st with lilies boast, 
And with the half-blown rose : but Fortune, Oh ! 
She is corrupted, changed, and won from thee. 

dFOCtUTte. — Shakspeare. 

Fortune is merry, 
And in this mood will give us any thing. 

^Fortune. — Shakspeare. 
When Fortune means to men most good, 
She looks upon them with a threat'ning eye. 

^Fortune.— Coiton. 

'THERE are some men who are Fortune's Favourites, and who, 
like cats, light for ever upon their legs. 

jFOttimr. —From the French. 
C* OOD Fortune and Bad are equally necessary to Man, to fit him 
to meet the contingencies of this life. 

jfOttVMC. — Goldsmith. 
Vy'HAT real Good does an addition to a fortune already sufficient, 
procure ? Not any. Could the great man, by having his 
Fortune increased, increase also his appetites, then precedence 
oiight be attended with real amusement. 



dfOttVLnt.— GrevUle. 
QURELY no man can reflect, without wonder, upon the Vicissi- 
tudes of Human Life arising from causes in the highest degree 
accidental and trifling. If you trace the necessary concatenation of 
Human Events, a very little way back, you may perhaps discover 
that a person's very going in or out of a door has been the means 
of colouring with misery or happiness the remaining current of his life 

jFortime. — Montaigne. 
"pORTUNE does us neither good nor hurt; she only presents us 
the matter and the seed, which our soul, more powerful than 
she, turns and applies as she best pleases, being the sole cause and 
sovereign mistress of her own happy or unhappy condition. All 
external accessions receive taste and colour from the internal con- 
stitution, ns clothes warm us not with their heat, but our own, 
which they are adapted to cover and keep in. 
jFOttUtte* — Rousseau. 
We do not know what is really Good or Bad Fortune. 
JCirtUne, — La Rochefoucauld. 
(^j-OOD or Bad Fortune generally pursue those who have the 
greatest share of either. The prosperous man seems as a mag- 
net to attract Prosperity. 

dfOTtUUt. — La Rochefoucauld. 
TPHE Good or the Bad Fortune of Men depend not less upon their 
own dispositions than upon Fortune. 

fortune. — Tacitus. 
r FHERE are many Men who appear to be struggling against Ad- 
versity, and yet are happy; but yet more, who, although 
abounding in Wealth, are miserable. 

jFOttUTte. — La Rochefoucauld. 
T\TE should manage our Fortune as we do our health — enjoy it 
when good, be patient when it is bad, and never apply violent 
remedies except in an extreme necessity. 

JfOttUKtt. — La Rochefoucauld. 
HPHE moderation of Fortunate People comes from the calm which 
Good Fortune gives to their tempers. 

Jf OllUne. — Shenstone. 
THE worst inconvenience of a Small Fortune is that it will noi 
admit of inadvertency. 

^lagtltg tottf) jFftttUVLZ. — Shakspeare. 

TTAPPINESS courts thee in her best array ; 
But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench, 
Thou pout'st upon thy Fortune and thy Love. 
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable 


^Fortune. — La Rochefoucauld. 
It requires greater virtues to support Good than Bad Fortune. 

JfFtatltJ?. — Shakspeare. 
Where's that palace, whereinto foul things 
Sometimes intrude not ? who has a Breast so pure, 
But some uncleanly apprehensions 
Keep leets, and law-days, and in session sit 
With meditations lawful? 

^reetiom.— RaM. 

HTO have Freedom, is only to have that which is absolutely neces- 
sary to enable us to be what we ought to be, and to possess 
what we ought to possess. 

.^FtCetfOttt. — Channing. 
'THE only freedom worth possessing is that which gives enlarge- 
ment to a people's energy, intellect, and virtues. The savage 
makes his boast of freedom. But what is its worth ? Free as he 
is, be continues for ages in the same ignorance, leads the same com- 
fortless life, sees the same untamed wilderness spread around him. 
He is, indeed, free from what he calls the yoke of civil institutions. 
But other and worse chains bind him. The very privation of civil 
government is in effect a chain; for, by withholding protection 
from property, it virtually shackles th.e arm of industry, and forbids 
exertion for the melioration of his lot. Progress, the growth of 
power, is the end and boon of liberty ; and, without this, a people 
may have the name, but want the substance and spirit of freedom 

Ci)e ttUlg $KtZ. — Horace. 
T\/'HO then is Free ? — The Wise, who well maintains 

An empire o'er himself; whom neither Chains, 
Nor Want, nor Death, with slavish Fear inspire; 
Who boldly answers to his warm desire ; 
Who can Ambition's vainest gifts despise ; 
Firm in himself, who on himself relies; 
Polish'd and round, who runs his proper course, 
And breaks misfortune with superior force. 

dFrietrtJ!5t)tp.— Joanna Baillie. 
Friendship is no plant of hasty growth. 
Though planted in esteem's deep-fix'd soil, 
The gradual culture of kind Intercourse 
Must bring it to perfection. 

dFrientJSi)tp. — Burton. 
'THE Attachments of mere Mirth are but the shadows of that true 
Friendship, of which the sincere Affections of the Heart are 
the substance. 


dFncnfcSijtp. — Shakspeare. 

Thou art e'en as just a Man, 
As e'er my conversation coped withal. 
Nay, do not think I flatter : 
For what advancement may I hope from thee, 
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits, 
To feed and clothe thee? Should the poor be flatter'd? 
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd Pomp, 
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, 
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? 
Since my dear Soul was mistress of her choice, 
And could of men distinguish, her election 
Hath seal'd thee for herself. For thou hast been 
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing: 
A Man, that Fortune's buffets and rewards 
Hast ta'en with equal thanks. And blest are those, 
Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, 
That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger 
To sound what stop she please. Give me that Man 
That is not Passion's slave, and I will wear him 
In my Heart's core: ay, in my Heart of Hearts, 
As I do thee. 

dFnentJSf)tp. — Shakspeare. 
f\ WORLD, thy slippery turns ! Friends now fast sworn, 

Whose double Bosoms seem to wear one Heart, 
Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal and exercise, 
Are still together, who twin, as 'twere in Love 
Unseparable, shall within this hour, 
On a dissension of a doit, break out 
To bitterest Enmity. 

dFrientlSfnp. — Lavaier. 
'THE qualities of your Friends will be those of your Enemies: 
cold Friends, cold Enemies; half Friends, half Enemies; fervid 
Enemies, warm Friends. 

dFrtentJsfjtp. _ ntzosbome. 

'THOUGH judgment must collect the materials of the goodly 
structure of Friendship, it is Affection that gives the cement; 
and Passion as well as Reason should concur in forming a firm and 
lasting coalition. Hence, perhaps, it is, that not only the most 
powerful, but the most lasting Friendships are usually the produce 
of the early season of our lives, when we are most susceptible of 
the warm and affectionate impressions. The connections into which 
we enter in any after period, decrease in strength as our passions 
abate in heat 


jFrientlSfjip. — Shakspeare. 
The Amity that Wisdom knits not, Folly may easily untie. 

dFrterttJSi)tp. — Cicero. 
pilTENDSHIP is the only thing in the world concerning the use- 
fulness of which all mankind are agreed. 

.jFrietttlSfjtp, — Horace. 
Wise were the Kings who never chose a Friend 
Till with full cups they had unmask'd his Soul, 
And seen the bottom of his deepest thoughts. 

dFrinttlStjtP- — Shakspeare. 
(~)H, lest the World should task you to recite 
What merit lived in me, that you should love 

After my death, — dear love, forget me quite, 
For you in me can nothing worthy prove; 

Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, 
To do more for me than mine own desert, 

And hang more praise upon deceased I, 
Than niggard truth would willingly impart; 

Oh, lest your true love may seem false in this, 
That you for love speak well of me untrue, 

My name be buried where my body is, 
And live no more to shame nor me nor you. 

For I am shamed by that which I bring forth, 

And so should you, to love things nothing worth. 

jFttnrtJSfjtp.— Greville. 
T'O say, with La Rochefoucauld, that "in the adversity of our best 
Friends there is something that does not displease us;" and to 
say, that in the prosperity of our best Friends there is something 
that does not please us, seems to be the same thing; yet I believe 
the first is false, and the latter true. 

.dFrinrtjgfjtp.— Coiton. 

'THOSE who have resources within themselves, who can dare to 
live alone, want Friends the least, but, at the same time, best 
know how to prize them the most. But no company is far prefer- 
able to bad, because we are more apt to catch the vices of others 
than their virtues, as disease is far more contagious than health. 
dFrientJSfjtp. — Shakspeare. 

Friends condemn'd 
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, 
Loather a hundred times to part than die. 
3ftltXltl8\)lV. — Shakspeare. 

Now do I play the touch, 
To try if thou be current gold, indeed. 

Jfxientstyiy. — Saiiust. 

'TO be influenced by a passion for the same pursuits, and to have 
similar dislikes, is the rational groundwork of lasting Friend- 

dFrtCtttlSJnp. — Socrates. 
/^j.ET not your Friends by bare compliments, but by giving them 
sensible tokens of your love. It is well worth while to learn 
how to win the heart of a man the right way. Force is of no use 
to make or preserve a Friend, who is an animal that is never caught 
nor tamed but by kindness and pleasure. Excite them by your 
civilities, and show them that you desire nothing more than their 
satisfaction ; oblige with all your soul that Friend who has made 
you a present of his own. 

dFrietttJSf)tp. — ShaJcspeare. 
TS all the Counsel that we two have shared, 

The Sisters' Vows, the hours that we have spent, 
When we have chid the hasty -footed time 
For parting us, — Oh, and is all forgot ? 
All school-days' Friendship, Childhood Innocence ? 
We, Herrnia, like two artificial gods, 
Have with our neelds created both one flower, 
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, 
Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; 
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, 
Had been incorporate. So we grew together, 
Like a double cherry, seeming parted ; 
But yet a union in partition, 
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : 
So, with two seeming bodies, but one Heart; 
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, 
Due but to one, and crown'd with one crest. 
And will you rend our ancient Love asunder ? 

;jFrientl!3f)iP- — Southern. 
pKIENDSHIP is power and riches all to me; 

Friendship's another element of life : 
Water and fire not of more general use, 
To the support and comfort of the world, 
Than Friendship to the being of my joy : 
I would do every thing to serve a Friend. 

jFrtClttllSijtp. — Shakspeare. 
T COUNT myself in nothing else so happy, 

As in a soul rememb'ring my good Friends • 
And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, 
It shall be still thy true love's recompense. 


dFrinttortjtp. — Coiton. 

A N act, by which we make one Friend and one Enemy, is a losing 
game; because Revenge is a much stronger principle than 

dFrtcntJSfjtp. — Sir Walter Raleigh. 
THOU mayst be sure that he that will in private tell thee of thy 
faults, is thy Friend, for he adventures thy dislike, and doth 
hazard thy hatred ; for there are few men that can endure it, every 
man for the most part delighting in self-praise, which is one of the 
most universal follies that bewitcheth Mankind. 

dFrientlSfjtp. — Young. 
(CELESTIAL Happiness ! Whene'er she stoops 

To visit earth, one shrine the Goddess finds, 
And one alone, to make her sweet amends 
For absent heaven, — the bosom of a Friend, 
Where Heart meets Heart, 
Each other's pillow to repose divine. 

dFrientlSJjtp. _ Sir Walter Raleigh. 
THERE is nothing more becoming any wise man, than to make 
choice of Friends, for by them thou shalt be judged what thou 
art : let them therefore be wise and virtuous, and none of those 
that follow thee for gain ; but make election rather of thy betters, 
than thy inferiors, shunning always such as are needy; fur if thou 
givest twenty gifts, and refuse to do the like but once, all that thou 
hast done will be lost, and such men will become thy mortal 

.jFuentJ0f)tp. — Sir Philip Sidney. 
THE lightsome countenance of a Friend giveth such an inward 
decking to the house where it lodgeth, as proudest palaces have 
cause to envy the gilding. 

dFnentJ0f)tp. — Shakspeare. 
"PY Heaven, I cannot flatter : I defy 

The tongues of soothers ; but a braver place 
In my Heart's Love hath no man than yourself; 
Nay, task me to my word ; approve me. 

jFriCtttl£if)iP. — Fuller. 
I ET Friendship creep gently to a height ; if it rush to it, it may 
soon run itself out of breath. 

dFrient!j3f)tp. —Johnson. 
TF a man does not make new Acquaintance as he advances through 
life, he will soon find himself left alone. A man should keep 
his Friendship in constant repair. 



dFrientUSijtJL — Goldsmith. 
THERE are few subjects which have been more written upon, 
and less understood, than that of friendship. To follow the 
dictates of some, this virtue, instead of being the assuager of pain, 
becomes the source of every inconvenience. Such speculatists, by 
expecting too much from Friendship, dissolve the connection, and 
by drawing the bands too closely, at length break them. 

jfrientJSfjtp. — Sir William Temple. 
SOMETHING like home that is not home, like alone that is not 
alone, is to be wished, and only found in a Friend, or in his 

dFr tentllSf) ip . — Shakspeare. 

In Companions 
That do converse and waste the time together, 
Whose Souls do bear an equal Yoke of Love, 
There must be needs a like proportion 
Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit. 

J^rtent(Sl)tp. — Chesterfield. 
DEAL Friendship is a slow grower; and never thrives, unless 
engrafted upon a stock of known and reciprocal Merit. 

dfFrientJSjtp. — La Rochefoucauld. 
Rare as is true Love, true Friendship is still rarer. 

,-jFr tentJSi) tp. — Hawkesworth. 
"PEW men are calculated for that close connection which we dis- 
tinguish by the appellation of Friendship : the Acquaintance 
is in a post of progression \ and after having passed through a 
course of proper experience, and given sufficient evidence of his 
merit, takes a new title. 

jftitrit*$l)i$. — Shakspeare. 
Give thy thoughts no tongue, 
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. 
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. 
The Friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel ; 
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. 

dFrienfcStjt'p. — Chesterfield. 
'THOSE who in the common course of the world will call them 
selves your Friends ; or whom, according to the common notions 
of Friendship, you may probably think such, will never tell you of 
your faults, still less of your weaknesses. But on the contrary, more 
desirous to make you their Friend than to prove themselves yours, 
tbey will flatter both, and, in truth, not be sorry for either. 


jFrimtlSf)tp. — Catherine Phillips. 
"PSSEXTIAL honour must be in a friend, 

Not such as every breath fans to and fro ; 
But born within, is its own judge and end, 

And dares not sin, though sure that none should know. 
Where Friendship's spoke, Honesty's understood ; 
For none can be a Friend that is not good. 

iFrteitflSfjtp. — Shalcspeare. 
~]VJ"0 longer mourn for me when I am dead 

Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell 
Give warning to the world that I am fled 

From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell : 
Nay, if you read this line, remember not 

The Hand that writ it ; for I love you so, 
That I in your sweet Thoughts would be forgot, 

If thinking on me then should make you wo. 
Oh if (I say) you look upon this verse, 

When I perhaps compounded am with clay. 
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse ; 

But let your Love even with my life decay : 
Lest the wise world should look into your moan, 
And mock you with me after I am gone. 

,iFricnu\Sf)tp. — La Fontaine. 
^OTHINGr more dangerous than a Friend without discretion ; 
even a prudent Enemy is preferable. 

dFnnt UlSi) tp. — From the Latin. 
C\F no worldly good can the enjoyment be perfect, unless it is 
shared by a Friend. 

^ttentfsfjtp. — Haziitt. 

The youth of Friendship is better than its old age. 

dFttCntlSijtp. — Fuller. 
"YTAKE not thy Friends too cheap to thee, nor thyself to thy 

lFuettt!Si)tp. — Shakspeare. 

Brutus hath rived my heart: 
A Friend should bear his Friend's infirmities, 
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are 

dFnentJSinp.— Havard. 

I have too deeply read Mankind 
To be amused with Friendship; 'tis a name 
Invented merely to betray credulity : 
'Tis intercourse of Interest — not of Souls. 


,iFcicntJSi)tp. — Clarendon. 
"FRIENDSHIP is compounded of all those soft ingredients which 
can insinuate themselves and slide insensibly into the nature 
and temper of men of the most different constitutions, as well as 
of those strong and active spirits which can make their way into 
perverse and obstinate dispositions ) and because Discretion is 
always predominant in it, it works and prevails least upon Fools, 
Wicked men are often reformed by it, weak men seldom. 

jftmXbSfyiV.— Fuller. 
PURCHASE not Friends by gifts ; when thou ceasest to give, 
such will cease to love. 

dPrietttfS f)tp. — Savage. 
YOU'LL find the Friendship of the World a show ! 
Mere outward show ! 'Tis like the harlot's tears, 
The statesman's promise, or false patriot's zeal, 
Full of fair seeming, but delusion all. 

df ncntfSijtp. — Addison. 
The Friendships of the World are oft 
Confed'racies in vice, or leagues of pleasure. 

jFrinrtfSfjtp.— Trap. 
Friendship must be accompanied with Virtue, 
And always lodged in great and gen'rous Minds. 

jFrieirtJgf)tp. — Blair. 
FRIENDSHIP ! mysterious cement of the Soul ! 

Sweet'ner of Life and solder of Society ! 
I owe thee much. Thou hast deserved of me 
Far, far beyond what I can ever pay. 
Oft have I proved the labours of thy Love, 
And the warm efforts of the gentle Heart 
Anxious to please. 

Jf rienilSfn'p, — Spenser. 
'W'E, certes can that Friendship long endure, 

However gay and goodly be the style, 
That doth ill cause or evill end enure, 
For Vertue is the band that bindeth Harts most sure 

dPricntlSijtp.— Lee. 
In their nonage, a sympathy 
Unusual join'd their Loves: 
They pair'd like Turtles; still together drank, 
Together eat, nor quarrell'd for the choice. 
Like twining Streams both from one Fountain fell, 
And as they ran still mingled smiles and tears. 


dFttettfcSJjtp. —Addison. 
Great Souls by instinct to each other turn, 
Demand Alliance, and in Friendship burn. 

jfxm\1}8\)i$. — Dr!/den. 

I CAN forgive 
A Foe, but not a Mistress, and a Friend : 
Treason is there in its most horrid shape, 
Where trust is greatest ! and the Soul resign'd 
Is stabb'd by her own guards. 

jFrtentlSf)tp. — Fuller. 
ATAKE not a Bosom Friend of a melancholy soul : he'll be sure 
to aggravate thy adversity, and lessen thy prosperity. He 
goes always heavy loaded; and thou must bear half. He's never 
in a good humour; and may easily get into a bad one, and fall out 
with thee. 

jFrugalt'tp. — Burke. 
"PRUGALITY is founded on the principle, that all riches have 

jFtUgalttJf*— Johnson. 

"pRUGALITY may be termed the Daughter of Prudence, the 
Sister of Temperance, and the Parent of Liberty. He that is 
extravagant will quickly become Poor, and Poverty will enforce 
dependence, and invite corruption. 

jFrugalttp.— Cicero. 
The World has not yet learned the Riches of Frugality. 

Cf)e future. — Seneca. 
'THE state of that Man's Mind who feels too intense an interest 
as to Future Events, must be most deplorable. 

^Future Stat*. —Addison. 
"V^THY will any man be so impertinently officious as to tell me 
all prospect of a Future State is only fancy and delusion ? 
Is there any merit in being the messenger of ill news? If it is a 
dream, let me enjoy it, since it makes me both the happier and 
better man. 

^Future State. — Cicero. 
'THERE is, I know not how, in the minds of men, a certain 
presage, as it were, of a Future Existence, and this takes the 
deepest root, and is most discoverable, in the greatest geniuses and 
most exalted souls. 


,-fFuture State. — Coiton. 

TEAVEN may have happiness as utterly unknown to us, as the 
gift of perfect vision would be to a man born blind. If we 
consider the inlets of pleasure from five senses only, we may be 
sure that the same Being who created us, could have given us five 
hundred, if he had pleased. Mutual love, pure and exalted, founded 
on charms both mental and corporeal, as it constitutes the highest 
happiness on earth, may, for any thing we know to the contrary, 
also form the lowest happiness of Heaven. And it would appear 
consonant with the administration of Providence in other matters, 
that there should be such a link between Earth and Heaven ; for, 
in all cases, a Chasm seems to he purposely avoided "prudente Deo." 
Thus, the Material World has its links, by which it is made to shake 
hands, as it were, with the Vegetable, — the vegetable with the 
Animal, — the animal with the Intellectual, — and the intellectual 
with what we may be allowed to hope of the Angelic. 

a ^Future State. — Dryden. 
Sure there is none but fears a Future State; 
And when the most obdurate swear they do not, 
Their trembling hearts belie their boasting tongues. 

a dFuture State.— Dryden. 
T)IVINES but peep on undiscover'd worlds, 

And draw the distant landscape as they please; 
But who has e'er return' d from those bright regions, 
To tell their manners, and relate their laws. 

dFutttritg. — Shakspeare. 
f\ Heaven ! that one might read the Book of Fate, 

And see the revolution of the times 
Make mountains level, and the continent, 
Weary of solid firmness, melt itself 
Into the sea. 

Oh, if this were seen, 
The happiest youth, — viewing his progress through, 
What perils past, what crosses to ensue, — 
Would shut the book, and sit him down and die. 

jFuttmtg.— Pope. 

CEE dying vegetables life sustain, 

See life dissolving, vegetate again : 
All forms tbat perish other forms supply, 
(By turns we catch the vital breath and die,) 
Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne, 
They rise, they break, and to that sea return. 


Nothing is foreign; parts relate to whole; 
One all-extending, all-preserving soul 
Connects each being, greatest with the least; 
Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast; 
All served, all serving: nothing stands alone; 
The chain holds on, and where it ends unknown. 

©ambling. — Lavakr. 

IT is possible that a wise and good man may be prevailed on to 
game; but it is impossible that a professed Gamester should be 
a wise and good man. 

©ambling. — Tom Brown. 
Gaming finds man a cully, and leaves him a knave. 

©ambling. — Steele. 

THERE is nothing that wears out a fine face like the vigils of 
the Card-table, and those cutting passions which naturally 
attend them. Hollow eyes, haggard looks, and pale complexions 
are the natural indications of a female Gamester. Her morning 
sleeps are not able to repay her midnight watchings. 

©ambling. — La Bruyere. 

AN assembly of the states, a court of justice, shows nothing so 

serious and grave as a Table of Gamesters playing very high ; 

a melancholy solicitude clouds their looks; envy and rancour agitate 

their minds while the meeting lasts, without regard to friendship, 

alliances, birth, or distinctions. 

Game* anto Sport*.— FuUer. 

TAKE heed to avoid all those Games and Sports that are apt to 
take up much of thy time, or engage thy affections. He that 
spends all his life in Sports, is like one who wears nothing but 
fringes, and eats nothing but sauces. 

STfje (Garden in Cotott/— cbwper. 

~pVN in the stifling bosom of the Town, 

A Garden in which nothing thrives has charms 
That soothe the rich possessor; much consoled 
That here and there some sprigs of mournful mint, 
Of nightshade or valerian, grace the wall 
He cultivates. 

&f)e <B?ag. — Cmoper. 
"\VHOM call we gay ? That honour has been long 

The boast of mere pretenders to the name. 
The innocent are gay — the Lark is gay, 
That dries his feathers saturate with Dew 
Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beams 
Of Day-spring overshot his humble nest. 


4&tnttQ8itgl. — Grevffle. 

QNE great reason why men practise Generosity so littlo in tlie 
world is, their finding so little there : Generosity is catching • 
and if so many men escape it, it is in a great degree from the same 
reason that countrymen escape the Small-pox, — because they meet 
with no one to give it them. 

^zmxmii^ — Lucan. 

[JNLIKE the ribald, whose licentious jest 

Pollutes his banquet, and insults his guest; 
From wealth and grandeur easy to descend, 
Thou joy'st to lose the Master in the Friend : 
We round thy Board the cheerful menials see, 
Gay with the smile of bland Equality • 
No social care the gracious lord disdains; 
Love prompts to Love, and Reverence Reverence gains. 

(£etterO0tt;p. — Skakspeare. 
Oh ! the World is but a word ; 
Were it all yours, to give it in a breath, 
How quickly were it gone ! 

(fcetterOSttg. — Shakspeare. 

Poor honest lord, brought low by his own Heart ; 

Undone by Goodness ! Strange, unusual Blood, 

When Man's worst sin is, he does too much Good ! 

<S*etttU&— Plautus. 

How oft we see the greatest Genius buried in obscurity. 

<&entUS.— Anon. 
1 T is a lesson which Genius and Wisdom of every kind must learn, 
that its kingdom is not of this world. It must learn to know 
this, and to be content that this should be so, to be content with 
the thought of a Kingdom in a higher, less transitory region. Then 
perad venture may the saying be fulfilled with regard to it, that he 
who is ready to lose his life shall save it. The Wisdom which aims 
at something nobler and more lasting than the Kingdom of this 
World, may now and then find that the Kingdom of this World 
will also fall into its lap. 

(&miM. — Anon. 
~pEW Minds are sun-like, sources of light in themselves and to 
others. Many more are Moons, that shine with a derivative 
and reflected light. Among the tests to distinguish them is this : 
the former are always full, the latter only now and then, when their 
Suns are shining full upon them. 

(£etttUS. — Seneca. 
There is no great Genius free from some tincture of Madness. 


Genius. — Swift. 

\\THEN a true Genius appears in the world, you may know him 
by this sign, that the Dunces are all in confederacy against 

<&entUS. — Sir J. Reynolds. 
^[.ENIUS is supposed to be a power of producing excellences whicli 
are out of the reach of the rules of Art : a power which no pre- 
cepts can teach, and which no industry can acquire. 

(&eni\\8. — Aristotle. 
"THERE is no distinguished Genius altogether exempt from some 
infusion of Madness. 

(SentUS. — Cicero. 
TO be endowed with Strength by Nature, to be actuated by the 
powers of the Mind, and to have a certain Spirit almost Divine 
infused into you. 

<&entU!3. — Anon. 
SECONDARY men, men of talents, may be mixed up, like an 
apothecary's prescription, of so many grains of one quality, and 
so many of another. But Genius is one, individual, indivisible : 
like a star, it dwells alone. That which is essential in a Man of 
Genius, his central spirit, shows itself once, and passes away never 
to return : and in few men is this more conspicuous than in Milton, 
in whom there is nothing Homeric, and hardly any thing Virgilian 
In sooth, one might as accurately describe the elephant, as being 
made up of the force of the lion and the strength of the tiger. 

(Senilis. — Coiton. 

THE greatest Genius is never so great, as when it is chastised 
and subdued by the highest Reason. 

(fetniM. — Horace. 
He alone can claim this name, who writes 
With Fancy high, and bold and daring Flights. 

Senilis. — Horace. 
VOUR friend is passionate ; perhaps unfit 
For the brisk petulance of modern wit : 
His hair ill cut, his robe that awkward flows, 
Or his large shoes, to raillery expose 

The man 

But underneath this rough, uncouth disguise 
A Genius of extensive Knowledge lies. 

©enillS.— S. T. Coleridge. 
TALENT, lying in the Understanding, is often inherited ; Genius, 
being the action of Reason and Imagination, rare!}' or never 


©fttUUg. — Cicero. 

All Great Men are in some degree Inspired. 

(SnttUS. — Colton. 
T^HE drafts which true Genius draws upon posterity, although 
they may not always be honoured so soon as they are due, are 
sure to be paid with compound interest in the end. Milton's ex- 
pressions on his right to this remuneration, constitute some of the 
finest efforts of his mind. 

<SentU0. — Lavater. 
HTHE proportion of Genius to the vulgar is like one to a million ; 
but Genius without Tyranny, without Pretension, that judges 
the weak with Equity, the superior with Humanity, and equals 
with Justice, is like one to ten millions. 

<&entUS. _ Crabbe. 
Q .ENIUS ! thou Gift of Heaven ! thou Light divine ! 

Amid what dangers art thou doom'd to shine ! 
Oft will the body's weakness check thy force, 
Oft damp thy Vigour, and impede thy course ; 
And trembling nerves compel thee to restrain 
Thy noble efforts, to contend with pain ; 
Or Want (sad guest !) will in thy presence come, 
And breathe around her melancholy gloom ) 
To life's low cares will thy proud thought confine, 
And make her sufferings, her impatience, thine. 

(SJentUS. — Longfellow. 
1VTEN of genius are often dull and inert in society ; as the blazing 
meteor, when it descends to earth, is only a stone. 

Cf)e Gentleman. — Shaftesbury. 
THHE taste of Beauty, and the relish of what is decent, just and 
amiable, perfects the character of the Gentleman and the Philo- 
sopher. And the study of such a taste or relish will, as we suppose, 
be ever the great employment and concern of him who covets as 
well to be wise and good, as agreeable and polite. 

Cfje Gentleman.— Hare. 

A CHRISTIAN is God Almighty's Gentleman : a Gentleman in 
the vulgar, superficial way of understanding the word, is the 
Devil's Christian. But to throw aside these polished and too cur- 
rent counterfeits for something valuable and sterling, the Real Gen- 
tleman should be gentle in every thing, at least in every thing that 
depends on himself, — in carriage, temper, constructions, aims, de- 
sires. He ought therefore to be mild, calm, quiet, even, temperate, — 
not hasty in judgment, not exorbitant in ambition, not overbearing, 
not proud, not rapacious, not oppressive; for these things are con 


trary to Gentleness. Many such Gentlemen are to be found, I trust; 
and many more would be were the true meaning of the name borne 
in mind and duly inculcated. 

Cf)e Gentleman. — Steele. 

TT is no very uncommon thing in the World to meet with Men of 
Probity ; there are likewise a great many Men of Honour to be 
found. Men of Courage, Men of Sense, and Men of Letters, are 
frequent ; but a True Gentleman is what one seldom sees. He is 
properly a compound of the various good qualities that embellish 
mankind. As the great poet animates all the different parts of 
learning by the force of his genius, and irradiates all the compass 
of his knowledge by the lustre and brightness of his imagination; 
so all the great and solid perfections of life appear in the Finished 
Gentleman, with a beautiful gloss and varnish; every thing he says 
or does is accompanied with a manner, or rather a charm, that 
draws the admiration and good-will of every beholder. 

CJ)e Gentleman. — Coiton. 

TTE that can enjoy the intimacy of the Great, and on no occasion 
disgust them by familiarity, or disgrace himself by servility, 
proves that he is as perfect a Gentleman by Nature, as his compa- 
nions are by Rank. 

GtftS. — Shakspeare. 
AND, with them, words of so sweet breath composed 
As made the things more rich : their perfume lost, 
Take these again ; for to the noble mind 
Rich Gifts wax poor, when Givers prove unkind. 

GtftS. — Fuller. 
/^j-lVE freely to him that deserveth well, and asketh nothing : and 
that is a way of giving to thyself. 

GtftS. — Seneca. 
There is no grace in a Benefit that sticks to the fingers. 

GiftS. — Lavater. 
A GIFT — its kind, its value and appearance ; the silence or the 
pomp that attends it; the style in which it reaches you, may 
decide the dignity or vulgarity of the Giver. 

(QiftZ. — Ovid. 
"PRESENTS which our love for the Donor has rendered precious 
are ever the most acceptable. 

GtftS. — Cato. 
HTENDER not twice to any man the Favours you may have it in 
your power to confer, and be not too loquacious, while ycu 
wish to be esteemed for your kindness. 


vSIon?. — B- 

T'HERE shall they rot — ambition's honour'd fools. 

Yes. Honour decks the turf that wraps their clay . 
Vain sophistry ! in these behold the tools, 

The brokeu tools, that tyrants cast away 
By myriads, when they dare to pave their way 

With human hearts — to what ? — a dream alone. 

OlOn?. — Byron. 
"Y^EDALS, Ranks, Ribbands, Lace, Embroidery, Scarlet, 

Are things immortal to a mortal man, 
As purple to the Babylonian harlot : 
An Uniform to boys is like a fan 
To women ; there is scarce a crimson varlet 

But deems himself the first in Glory's van. 
But Glory's Glory ; and if you would find 
"What that is — ask the pig who sees the wind ! 

t&lOCg.— Dryden. 
The brave abroad fight for the wise at home : 
You are but camp chameleons, fed with air ; 
Thin Fame is all the bravest hero's share. 

ffirtotg. — Byron. 

^HE Groan, the Roll in Dust, the all-white Eye 

Turn'd back within its socket,: — these reward 
Your rank and file by thousands, while the rest 
May win perhaps a Ribbon at the breast. 

GlOCg.— Cowper. 

T ET eternal infamy pursue 

The wretch to naught but his Ambition true, 
Who for the sake of filling with one blast 
The post-horns of all Europe, lays her waste. 

Glorg.— Byron. 
TV"HAT boots the oft-repeated tale of strife, 

The feast of vultures, and the waste of life ? 
The varying fortune of each separate field, 
The fierce that vanquish, and the faint that yield ? 
The smoking ruin and the crumbled wall ? 
In this the struggle was the same with all. 

Glorp. — Young. 
(~)XE to destroy is murder by the law, 

And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe : 
To murder thousands takes a specious name, 
War's Glorious art, and gives immortal Fame. 


<£lorg (sacking a iEitg.) — Byron. 

A LL that the mind would shrink from of excesses ; 

All that the body perpetrates of bad ; 
All that we read, hear, dream of man's distresses; 
All that the Devil would do if run stark mad ; 
All that defies the worst which pen expresses ; 

All by which Hell is peopled, or as sad 
As Hell — mere mortals who their power abuse, — 
Was here (as heretofore and since) let loose. 

(&lCitg. — Porteus. 

Whole kingdoms fell 
To sate the Lust of Power : more horrid still, 
The foulest stain and scandal of our nature 
Became its boast. One murder made a villain ; 
Millions a Hero. 
Numbers sanctified the crime. 

(kiOtg. — Byron. 
J^NOUGH of battle's minions ! let them play 

Their game of lives, and barter breath for Fame ; 
Fame that will scarce reanimate their clay, 

Though thousands fall to deck some single name. 
In ^ootb 'twere sad to thwart their noble aim, 
Who strike, blest hirelings ! for their country's good, 
And die, that living might have proved her shame. 

(Sluq). — Cicero. 
nTRUE Glory takes root, and even spreads : all false pretences, 
like flowers, fall to the ground; nor can any counterfeit last 

(Glorg.— Wayland. 
'THE aged crone, or the smooth-tongued beadle, as now he hurries 
you through aisles and chapel, utters, with measured cadence and 
unmeaning tone, for the thousandth time, the name and lineage of 
the once honoured dead ; and then gladly dismisses you, to repeat 
again his well-conned lesson to another group of idle passers-by. 
Such, in its most august form, is all the immortality that matter 

can confer It is by what we ourselves have done, and not by 

what others have done for us, that we shall be remembered by after 
ages. It is by thought that has aroused my intellect from its 
slumbers, which has " given lustre to virtue, and dignity to truth," 
or by those examples which have inflamed my soul with the love of 
goodness, and not by means of sculptured marble, that I hold com- 
munion with Shakspeare and Milton, with Johnson and Burke, with 
Howard and Wilberforce. 


Cf)e ©lUttOn. — Shahspeare. 
Fat Paunches have lean Pates ; and dainty Bits 
Make rich the ribs, but bank'rout quite the Wits. 

Cf)e <&lumn.— Joanna Baillie. 
Some men are born to feast, and not to fight ; 
Whose sluggish Minds, e'en in fair Honour's field, 
Still on their Dinner turn. 

€f)e Glutton. — Milton. 

Swinish Gluttony 
Ne'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous Feast, 
But with besotted, base ingratitude 
Crams, and blasphemes his feeder. 

2Tf)e (felUttim.— Juvenal. 
Such, whose sole bliss is eating, who can give 
But that one brutal reason why they live. 

Cf)e <&luttOtt. — South. 
TTE that prolongs his Meals, and sacrifices his time, as well as 
his other conveniences, to his Luxury, how quickly does he 
outset his pleasure ! And then, how is all the following time be- 
stowed upon Ceremony and Surfeit ! until at length, after a long 
fatigue of eating, and drinking, and babbling, he concludes the 
great work of dining genteelly, and so makes a shift to rise from 
table, that he may lie down upon his bed; where, after he has slept 
himself into some use of himself, by much ado he staggers to his 
table again, and there acts over the same brutish scene : so that he 
passes his whole life in a dozed condition, between sleeping and 
waking, with a kind of drowsiness and confusion upon his senses, 
which what pleasure it can be, is hard to conceive. All that is of 
it, dwells upon the tip of his tongue, and within the compass of his 
palate. A worthy prize for a man to purchase with the loss of his 
time, his reason, and himself. 

(E^Oti. —Horace. 
"\\THO guides below, and rules above, 

The great Disposer, and the mighty King; 
Than He none greater, next Him none, 
That can be, is, or was : 
Supreme He singly fills the Throne. 

(ErCltr. — Boeihius. 
Z^-IVE me, Father, to thy throne access, 

Unshaken seat of endless happiness ! 
Give me, unvail'd, the Source of Good to see ! 
Give me Thy light, and fix mine eyes on Thee ! 


(ErOtf. — Jacobi. 
TITHAT is there in Man so worthy of honour and reverence as 
this, — that he is capable of contemplating something higher 
than his own reason, more sublime than the whole universe; that 
Spirit which alone is self-subsistent, from which all truth proceeds, 
without which is no truth ? 

ingratitude tO (Soft. — Seneca. 
"VTTE can be thankful to a friend for a few acres, or a little 
money ; and yet for the freedom and command of the whole 
earth, and for the great benefits of our Being, our Life, Health, 
and Reason, we look upon ourselves as under no obligation. 

©oVg beneficence. — Burke. 

'THOSE things that are not practicable, are not desirable. There 
is nothing in the world really beneficial, that does not lie 
within the reach of an informed understanding and a w* 11-directed 
pursuit. There is nothing that God has judged good for us, that 
He has not given us the means to accomplish, both in the natural 
and the moral world. 

ittOCfcinfl <5lrtl.— Casaubon. 
TT is a common frenzy of the ignorant multitude, to be always 
engaging Heaven on their side ; and indeed it is a successful 
stratagem of any general to gain authority among his soldiers, if 
he can persuade them he is the man by Fate appointed for such or 
such an action, though most impracticable. 

(GOVS \tititt1SUW. — Shahspeare. 
VOU snatch some hence for little faults ; that's love, 

To have them fall no more : you some permit 
To second ills with ills, each elder worse ; 
And make them dread it to the doer's thrift. 

£ttiVLQ <&0u\ — SchleiermacTier. 
T ET the majestic serenity with which you estimate the great 
and the small, prove that you refer every thing to the Immu- 
table, — that you perceive the Godhead alike in every thing; let the 
bright cheerfulness with which you encounter every proof of our 
transitory nature, reveal to all men that you live above time and 
above the world ; let your easy and graceful self-denial prove how 
many of the bonds of egotism you have already broken ; and let 
the ever quick and open spirit from which neither what is rarest 
nor most ordinary escapes, show with what unwearied ardour ycu 
seek for every trace of the Godhead, with what eagerness you 
watch for its slightest manifestation. If your whole life, and every 
movement of your outward and inward being, is thus guided by 
religion, perhaps the hearts of many will be touched by this mute 


language, and will open to the reception of that spirit which dwells 
within you. 

00 ft. — Shakspeare. 
Foul-cankertng rust the hidden Treasure frets; 
But Gold, that's put to use, more Gold begets. 

00ft. — Shakspeare. 
Oh, what a world of vile ill-favour' d faults 
Looks handsome in Three Hundred Pounds a year. 

00ft. — Shakspeare. 

Why this 
Will lug your priests and servants from your sides ; 
Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads : 
This Yellow Slave 

Will knit and break religions ) bless the accursed ; 
Make the hoar leprosy adored; place thieves, 
And give them title, knee, and approbation, 
With senators on the bench. 

This is it, 
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again : 
She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores 
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices 
To the April day again. 
For this, the foolish over-careful fathers 
Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, 
Their bones with industry. 

(ElCft. — Shakspeare. 
'THERE is thy Gold ; worse Poison to men's souls, 

Doing more murders in this loathsome world, 
Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not sell : 
I sell thee Poison, thou hast sold me none. 

<&0 ft. — Shakspeare. 
C\ THOU sweet King-killer, and dear Divorce 

'Twixt natural son and sire ! thou bright Defiler 
Of Hymen's purest bed ! thou valiant Mars ! 
Thou ever young, fresh, loved, and delicate Wooer, 
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow 
That lies on Dian's lap ! thou visible God, 
That solder'st close impossibilities, 

And makest them kiss ! that speak'st with every tongue, 
To every purpose ! thou Touch of Hearts ! 
Think, thy slave Man lebels; and by thy virtue 
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts 
May have the world in empire ! 


(HottJ. — Shdkspeare. 
How quickly nature 
Falls to revolt, when Gold becomes her object ! 

(Soft. — Addison. 
A MAN who is furnished with arguments from the Mint, will 
convince his antagonist much sooner than one who draws them 
from Reason and Philosophy. Gold is a wonderful clearer of the 
understanding; it dissipates every doubt and scruple in an instant ; 
accommodates itself to the meanest capacities ; silences the loud 
and clamorous, and brings over the most obstinate and inflexible. 
Philip of Macedon was a man of most invincible reason this way. 
He refuted by it all the wisdom of Athens, confounded their states- 
men, struck their orators dumb, and at length argued them out of 
all their liberties. 

i^OltJ. — Sliakspeare. 
^J-IVE him Gold enough, and marry him to a puppet, or an aglet- 
baby ; or an old trot with ne'er a tooth in her head, though 
she have as many diseases as two and fifty horses j why, nothing 
comes amiss, so money comes withal. 

<80ttJ.— Dekker. 
TTE that upon his back Rich Garments wears, 

Is wise, though on his head grow Midas' ears : 
Gold is the strength, the sinews of the world ; 
The health, the soul, the beauty most divine ; 
A mask of Gold hides all deformities ; 
Gold is Heaven's Physic, Life's Restorative. 

0Olu\ — Massinger. 
Here's music 
In this Bag shall wake her, though she had drunk opium, 

Or eaten mandrakes. 


The Picklock 
That never fails. 

<^0rtJ. — Johnson. 
The lust of Gold succeeds the lust of conquests ; 
The lust of Gold, unfeeling and remorseless, 
The last corruption of degenerate Man. 

<&0ltl. — Shakspeare. 
'JTIAT Broker, that still breaks the pate of Faith ; 

That daily Break-vow ; he that wins of all, 
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids — 
Who having no external thing to lose 
But the word Maid, — cheats the poor maid of that. 


(KOHL — Shakspeare. 
'Tis Gold 
Which buys admittance, (oft it doth,) yea, makes 
Diana's rangers, false themselves, yield up 
Their deer to th' stand o' th' stealer : and 'tis Gold 
"Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the thief; 
Nay, sometimes, hangs both thief and true man : what 
Can it not do, and undo ? 

<£ottf» — Horace. 
gTRONGER than Thunder's winged force, 
All-powerful Gold can spread its course, 
Through watchful guards its passage make 
And loves through solid walls to break : 
From Gold the overwhelming woes 
That crush'd the Grecian augur rose : 
Philip- with Gold through Cities broke, 
And rival Monarchs felt his yoke. 

©Oft.— Anon. 
J^PICHARMUS, indeed, calls the Winds, the Water, the Earth, 
the Sun, the Fire, and the Stars, Gods. But I am of opinion, 
that Gold and Silver are our only powerful and propitious Deities. 
For when once you have introduced these into your house, wish for 
what you will, you shall quickly obtain it ; an Estate, a Habita- 
tion, Servants, Plate, Friends, Judges, Witnesses. 

<£0ltf.— Colton 
'THERE are two Metals, one of which is omnipotent in the Cabi- 
net, and the other in the Camp, — Gold and Iron. He that 
knows how to apply them both, may indeed attain the highest sta- 
tion, but he must know something more to' keep it. 

<&00tJ from JftM.— Goldsmith. 
T?EAR guides more to their duty than Gratitude ; for one Man 
who is virtuous from the Love of Virtue, from the obligation 
which he thinks he lies under to the Giver of all, there are ten thou- 
sand who are good only from their Apprehensions of Punishment. 

HBrjtng <&00tJ. — Seneca. 
T-TE that does Good to another man, does also Good to himself; 
not only in the consequence, but in the very act of doing it; 
for the Conscience of well-doing is an ample reward. 

BO trig <£00t(. — Shaftesbury. 
"^"EVER did any soul do Good, but it came readier to do the same 
again, with more enjoyment. Never was Love, or Gratitude, 
or Bounty practised but with increasing Joy, which made the prac- 
tiser still more in love with the fair act. 


BOtltg tSGOtl. — Cicero. 
TX nothing do men approach so nearly to the Gods, as in giving 
health to men. 

DOtTtg ©OOtr. — La Bruyere. 

TTE is Good that does Good to others. If he suffers for the Good 
he does, he is better still ; and if he suffers from them to whom 
he did Good, he is arrived to that height of Goodness, that nothing 
but an increase of his sufferings can add to it : if it proves his death, 
his Virtue is at its summit; it is Heroism complete. 

SootJ an* EUdFottune. — Anon. 

\\TE often live under a Cloud ; and it is well for us that we should 
do so. Uninterrupted Sunshine would parch our hearts : we 
want Shade and Rain to cool and refresh them. Only it behooves 
us to take care, that, whatever Cloud may be spread over us, it 
should be a Cloud of Witnesses. And every Cloud may be such, 
if we can only look through to the Sunshine that broods behind it. 

<&0fjtJ Ji)UmOUr.— Greville. 
£J.OOD Humour will sometimes conquer 111 Humour, but 111 Hu- 
mour will conquer it oftener; and for this plain reason, Good 
Humour must operate on Generosity; 111 Humour on Meanness. 

i^XtCCme (£00tJ Nature. — Terence. 
^yH AT shall we call it ? Folly, or Good Nature ? 

So soft, so simple, and so kind a creature ! 
Where Charity so blindly plays its part, 
It only shows the weakness of her heart. 

(SOOtmeSS. — Anon. 
THRUE Goodness is like the glowworm in this, that it shines most 
when no eyes, except those of Heaven, are upon it. 

(GOOtmeSS. — Bishop Hall. 
A GOOD Man is kinder to his Enemy than Bad Men are to their 

<&00ti aittJ yZkiX. — La Rochefoucauld. 
ClOME Bad People would be less dangerous if they had not some 

<£00}l aittl ISbtl La Rochefoucauld. 

"^"0 man deserves to be praised for his Goodness unless he ha.s 
strength of character to be wicked. 

(£00ti atttJ 32utL — Shakspeare. 
TN Nature, there's no blemish, but the Mind ; 

None can be call'd deform'd, but the unkind ; 
Virtue is beauty ; but the beauteous evil 
Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the Devil. 


0COtJ anil ISSsiL—Lord Bacon. 
HTHE Rabbins note a principle of nature, that putrefaction is 
more dangerous before maturity than after, and another noteth 
a position in moral philosophy, that men abandoned to Vice do not 
so much corrupt manners as those that are half Good and half 

(Booli atttr lEhi\.—Anon. 

'THE difference between those whom the World esteems as Good, 
and those whom it condemns as Bad, is in many cases little else 
than that the former have been better sheltered from temptation. 

(BOOti aitll W&\L—Anon. 
r^PEN Evil at all events does this Good : it keeps Good on the 
alert. When there is no likelihood of an enemy's approach- 
ing, the garrison slumber on their post. 

(gfJOll antl WbiL — Shakspeare. 
"\7"IRTUE, as it never will be moved, 

Though Lewdness court it in a shape of Heaven ; 
So Lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, 
Will sate itself in a celestial bed, 
And prey on garbage. 

<500lf antl W&iL — Shakspeare. 
There is some Soul of Goodness in things Evil, 
Would men observingly distil it out. 

(Bool* anil ISbtl. — Cotton. 
XTATURAL Good is so intimately connected with Moral Good, 
and Natural Evil with Moral Evil, that I am as certain as if I 
heard a voice from Heaven proclaim it, that God is on the side of 
Virtue. He has learnt much, and has not lived in vain, who has 
practically discovered that most strict and necessary connection, 
that does, and will ever exist, between Vice and Misery, and Virtue 
and Happiness. 

(grjOlf anil ISbiL — S. T. Coleridge. 
A S there is much Beast and some Devil in Man, so is there some 
Angel and some God in him. The Beast and the Devil may 
be conquered, but in this life never destroyed. 

<§fJ0ll antJ lEbtl.— Hare. 
TT is a proof of our natural bias to Evil, that gain is slower and 
harder than loss, in all things Good : but in all things bad, 
getting is quicker and easier than getting rid of. 

(BOOtJ anil ISbtL — S. T. Coleridge. 
'THE history of all the World tells us, that Immoral Means will 
ever intercept Good Ends. 


<£ootr antf l£h\L — Anon. 

TTE who has observed how throughout History, while Man is con- 
tinually misusing Good, and turning it into Evil, the overruling 
sway of God's Providence Out of Evil is ever bringing forth Good, 
will never be cast down, or led to despond, or to slacken his efforts, 
however untoward the immediate aspect of things may appear. 
For he will know that, whenever he is labouring in the cause of 
Heaven, the powers of Heaven are working with him ; that, though 
the Good he is aiming at may not be attainable in the very form 
he has in view, the ultimate result will assuredly be Good ; that, 
were man diligent in fulfilling his part, this result would be im- 
mediate ; and that no one who is thus diligent shall lose his 
precious reward, of seeing that every Good Deed is a part of the 
life of the world. 

(Dootl arib ISbtL — S. T. Coleridge. 
Good and Bad Men are each less so than they seem. 

CSnnfc atttl IB^iL— Sterne. 
V\TE are born to Trouble ; and we may depend upon it whilst we 
live in this world we shall have it, though with intermissions: 
that is, in whatever state we are, we shall find a mixture of Good 
and Evil; and therefore the true way to Contentment is to know 
how to receive these certain vicissitudes of life, — the returns of 
Good and Evil, so as neither to be exalted by the one, or over- 
thrown by the other, but to bear ourselves toward every thing 
which happens with such ease and indifference of mind, as tc 
hazard as little as may be. 

d3ootj an* iSbtL— Milton. 

fZ[-OOD and Evil, we know, in the field of this world grow up to- 
gether almost inseparably : and the Knowledge of Good is so in- 
volved and interwoven with the Knowledge of Evil, and in so many 
cunning resemblances hardly to be discerned, that those confused 
seeds which were imposed upon Psyche as an incessant labour to 
cull out and sort asunder, were not more intermixed. It was 
from out the rind of one Apple tasted, that the Knowledge of 
Good and Evil, as two Twins cleaving together, leaped forth into 
the world. 

(SoOfc tot W&iL — Shdkspeare. 
'THE strawberry grows underneath the nettle, 

And wholesome berries thrive, and ripen best, 
Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality : 
And so the Prince obscured his contemplation 
Under the vail of wildness; which, no doubt, 
Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, 
T . T nseen, yet crescive in his faculty. 


<&OCrtf for WbXL—Tillotson. 
A MORE glorious victory cannot be gained over another man 
than this, that when the Injury began on his part, the Kind- 
ness should begin on ours. 

<B*00tetotll. — Seneca. 
r rHE Good-will of the benefactor is the fountain of all Benefits; 
nay, it is the Benefit itself; or, at least, the stamp that makes 
it valuable and current. 

Cf)e ©OJSStp, — Zimmerman. 
]^EWS-HUNTERS have great Leisure, with little Thought; 
much petty Ambition to be thought intelligent, without any 
other pretension than being able to communicate what they have 
just learnt. 

(ffiobentmg*— sddm. 

They that govern most make least noise. 

<£obemmg. — Steele. 

TF the Commission of the Peace finds out the true Gentleman, he 
faithfully dischargeth it. I say finds him out; for a public 
office is a Guest, which receives the best usage from them who 
never invited it. 

<&obentment.— Livy. 

T\^HEN Tarquin the Proud was asked what was the best mode 
of governing a conquered City, he replied only by beating 
down with his Staff all the tallest Poppies in his Garden. 

(KOuenttttent. — Shakspeare. 
'THIS might have been prevented, and made whole, 

With very easy Arguments of Love : 
Which now the Manage of two kingdoms must 
With fearful bloody Issue arbitrate. 

<£obernment — Hare. 

J^ STATESMAN, we are told, should follow Public Opinion. 
Doubtless ... as a Coachman follows his horses; having firm 
hold on the Reins, and guiding them. 

Ckcbenrment. — Cowper. 

COME seek Diversion in the tented field, 

And make the sorrows of mankind their Sport. 
But War's a Game, which, were their subjects wise, 
Kings should not play at. Nations would do well 
T' extort their truncheons from the puny hands 
Of Heroes, whose infirm and baby minds 
Are gratified with mischief, and who spoil 
Because men suffer it, their toy the World. 


(J&obentment. — Coiton. 

OUR Constitution is the proudest political Monument of the com- 
bined and progressive wisdom of Man; throughout the whole 
civilized World its preservation ought to be prayed for, as a choice 
and peerless Model, uniting all the beauties of proportion with all 
the solidity of strength. But nothing human is perfect, and expe- 
rience has shown that this proud Monument of human Wisdom 
wants that which its earlier designers had conceived that it pos- 
sessed; a self-preserving power. Those, therefore, are its truest 
friends who are most vigilant and unremitting in their efforts to 
keep it from Corruption, and to guard it from Decay ; whose vene- 
ration, as it regards what it has been, and whose affection, as it relates 
to what it may be, is exceeded only by their fears for its safety, 
when they reflect what it is. 

©Obemmettt. — Montaigne. 
THERE is little less trouble in forming a private Family than a 
whole Kingdom : wherever the mind is perplexed, it is an entire 
disorder, and domestic Employments are not less troublesome for 
being less important. 

<£0bernment. — Shakspeare. 
With common men 
There needs too oft the Show of War to keep 
The Substance of sweet Peace; and for a King, 
; Tis sometimes better to be fear' \ than loved. 

• Sobewmettt. — Slidkspeare. 
r THE Providence, that's in a watchful State, 

Knows almost every grain of Pluto's Gold ; 
Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive Deep; 
Keeps place with thought; and almost, like the Gods, 
Does even our thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles: 
There is a Mystery (with which relation 
Durst never meddle) in the Soul of State; 
Which hath an operation more divine, 
Than breath, or pen, can give expressure to. 

<£obewment — Anon. 

HTIIE true Reformer is he who creates new Institutions, and gives 
them life and energy, and trusts to them for throwing off such 
evil humours as may be lying in the Body Politic. The true 
Reformer is the seminal Reformer, not the radical. And this is 
the way the Sower, who went forth to sow His seed, did really 
reform the World, without making any open assault to uproot what 
Was already existing. 


<&Obernmmt. — Seneca. 
He who too much fears Hatred, is unfit to reign. 

<^0b eminent. — Shakspeare. 
^HE still and mental Parts, 

That do contrive how many hands shall strike, 
When Fitness call them on, and know by measure 
Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight ; 
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity ; 
They call this bed-work Mapp'ry, closet War; 
So that the Ram, that batters down the wall, 
For the great swing and rudeness of his poise, 
They place before his Hand that made the Engine : 
Or those that with the Fineness of their Souls 
By reason guide his Execution. 

©obcrnment. — Pope. 

A KING may be a tool, a thing of straw ; but if he serves 
to frighten our enemies, and secure our property, it is well 
enough: a Scarecrow is a thing of straw, but it protects the Corn. 

(kobcrnment,— Anon. 

TT is a dangerous thing to try new Experiments in a Govern- 
ment : Men do not foresee the ill consequences that must happen, 
when they go about to alter the essential parts of it upon which 
the whole Frame depends : for all Governments are artificial things, 
and every part of them bar a dependence one upon another. 

<£obcm tetlt — Shakspeare. 

If we cannot defend our own door from the Dog, 
Let us be worried ; and our nation lose 
The name of Hardiness and Policy. 

(kcbenunent — Coiton. 

TN all Governments, there must of necessity be both the Law and 
the Sword : Laws without Arms would give us not Liberty, but 
Licentiousness; and Arms without Laws, would produce not Sub- 
jection, but Slavery. 

<£nbetnment, _ Montesquieu. 
f^HANCE, or as it is here termed, Fortune, does not govern the 
world. The truth of this position might be referred to the 
Romans, who enjoyed a continued course of Prosperity while their 
Government was conducted on a certain plan, and an uninterrupted 
series of Reverses when they adopted a different one. There 
always exist certain general causes, either moral or physical, which 
act upon the affairs of every Monarchy, raise it to grandeur, 
support it in its prosperity, or precipitate it to its decadence or 


(frobenrmcnt.— Coiton. 

TT is an easj r work to govern wise men, but to govern Fools or 
madmen, a continual Slavery. It is from the blind zeal and 
stupidity cleaving to Superstition, it is from the ignorance, rashness, 
and rage attending Faction, that so many mad and so sanguinary 
Evils have destroyed men, dissolved the best Governments, and 
thinned the greatest Nations. As a people well instructed will 
certainly esteem the blessings they enjoy, and study public Peace 
for their own sake, there is a great merit in instructing the people 
and cultivating their understandings. They are certainly less 
credulous in proportion as they are more knowing, and conse- 
quently less liable to be the dupes of Demagogues and the property 
of Ambition. They are not then to be surprised with false cries, 
nor animated by imaginary danger. And wherever the under- 
standing is well principled and informed, the passions will be 
tame, and the heart well disposed. They, therefore, who com- 
municate true Knowledge to their species, are true Friends to the 
World, Benefactors to Society, and deserve all encouragement from 
those who preside over Society, with the applause and good wishes 
of all good and honest men. 

(SrObernment. — La Rochefoucauld. 
THE display of Clemency by Princes is, not unfrequcntly, a 
political Manoeuvre to gain the affections of the People. 

(KrjbentmCttt. — Skakspeare. 
TT is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe : 

For Peace itself should not so dull a Kingdom, 
(Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in question,) 
But that Defences, musters, preparations, 
Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected, 
As were a War in expectation. 

<&Obentment. — Cornelius Nepos. 
THE Power is detested, and miserable is the life, of him wh'. 
wishes rather to be feared than to be loved. 

(Sobemmcnt .— Skakspeare. 
TT is a purposed thing, and grows by plot, 

To curb the Will of the Nobility : 
Suffer it, and live with such as cannot rule, 
Nor ever will be ruled. 

©Obernment — Sir Walter Raleigh. 
4 MAN must first govern himself, ere he be fit to govern a 
Family ; and his Family, ere he be fit to bear the Government 
in the Commonwealth. 


(Sobernment.— Hare. 

TN times of public Dissatisfaction add readily, to gratify men's 
wishes. So the change be made without trepidation, there is 
no contingent danger in the changing. But it is difficult to 
diminish safely, except in times of perfect quiet. The first is 
giving; the last is giving up. 

(Gobemment. — Shakspeare. 
I^JOW call we our high court of Parliament; 

And let us choose such limbs of noble Counsel, 
That the great body of our State may go 
In equal rank with the best-govern' d Nation. 

(kobeWtnent. — Rousseau. 
THE science of Government is merely a science of combinations, 
of applications, and of exceptions, according to time, place, and 

(Gobemmettt — Shakspeare, 
Thus we debase 
The nature of our Seats, and make the rabble 
Call our Cares, fears j which will in time break ope 
The locks o' the Senate, and bring in the Crows 
To peck the Eagles. 

(fccbernment.— Burke. 

"DEFINED Policy ever has been the parent of Confusion; and 
ever will be so, as long as the world endures. Plain Good 
Intention, which is as easily discovered at the first view, as Fraud 
is surely detected at last, is of no mean force in the Government 
of Mankind. Genuine simplicity of heart is a healing and 
cementing Principle. 

(^Obemmcnt. — Cicero. 
TT is necessary for a Senator to be thoroughly acquainted with 
the Constitution ; and this is a knowledge of the most extensive 
nature ; a matter of science, of diligence, of reflection, without which 
no Senator can possibly be fit for his office. 

<&obernment. — Tacitus. 

THE repose of Nations cannot be secure without Arms, Armies 
cannot be maintained without Pay, nor can the Pay be produced 
except by Taxes. 

<&Obemmettt. — Lord Bacon. 
THE surest way to prevent Seditions (if the times do bear it) is 
to take away the matter of them ; for if there be Fuel prepared, 
it is hard to tell whence the Spark shall come that shall set it on 


Sobentment.— De My. 

CI OOD is never more effectually performed than when it is pro- 
duced by slow degrees. 

<&0bcrnmmt. — Tom Brovm. 
THOUGH a soldier, in time of peace, is like a Chimney in Sum- 
mer, yet what wise man would pluck down his Chimney be- 
cause his almanac tells him 'tis the middle of June. 

<&obernment- — Antigonus. 

TTE who forms the mind of a Prince, and implants in him good 
Principles, may see the precepts he had inculcated extend 
through a large portion of his Subjects. 

(Srobernment. — Goldsmith. 

J>OLITICS resemble Religion : attempting to divest either of 
Ceremony is the most certain method of bringing either into 
contempt. The weak must have their inducements to admiration 
as well as the wise; and it is the business of a sensible Govern- 
ment to impress all ranks with a sense of subordination, whether 
this be effected by a diamond or a virtuous edict, a sumptuary 
law or a glass necklace. 

©Obentment- — Seneca. 
"DOWER exercised with Violence has seldom been of long dura- 
tion, but Temper and Moderation generally produce perma- 
nence in all things. 

©Obewment. — Rousseau. 

A CONTRACT made with its subjects by any Government, is so 

far dissolved by the exercise of Despotism, that the Despot 

is only able to enforce it while he continues the strongest ; but 

as soon as it is practicable to expel him, he has no good grounds 

on which to found a protest against the proceeding. 

(Sobetnmg dFabcuritcs. — Fuller. 

\yHEN a Favourite grows insolent, it is wisdom to raise another 
into favour, who may give check to the other's Presumption. 

IStttfitg (kraceS. — Shakspeare. 

King-becoming Graces 
Are Justice, Verity, Temperance, Stableness, 
Bounty, Perseverance, Mercy, Lowliness, 
Devotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude. 

(Sratttutie. — La Rochefoucauld. 
Y\THAT causes such a miscalculation in the amount of Gratitude 
which men expect for the favours they have done, is, that the 
Pride of the giver and that of the receiver can never agree as tc 
the value of the Benefit. 



SratttUtie. — La Rochefoucauld. 
A LMOST every one takes a Pleasure in requiting trifling Obli- 
gations ; many people are grateful for moderate ones ; but 
there is scarcely any one who does not show Ingratitude for great 

(^ratttUtie. — La Rochefoucauld. 
YATHILE we retain the power of rendering Service, and confer- 
ring Favours, we seldom experience Ingratitude. 

<£ratttUfce.— Charron. 
JJE who receives a Good Turn, should never forget it : he who 
does one, should never remember it. 

<&ratttuiie* — Pope. 

YATHEREVER I find a great deal of Gratitude in a poor man, 
I take it for granted there would be as much Generosity if 
he were a rich man. 

d^XatitVLtit. — La Rochefoucauld. 
HPHERE is a certain lively Gratitude which not only acquits us 
of the Obligations we have received, but, by paying what we 
owe them, makes our Friends indebted to us. 

t&XatitUtlt.— Shakspeare. 

I have five hundred crowns, 
The thrifty hire I saved under your Father, 
Which I did store, to be my foster nurse, 
When service should in my old limbs lie lame, 
And unregarded age in corners thrown. 
Take that : and He that doth the ravens feed, 
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
Be comfort to my age ! 

©tatttufce, — Shakspeare. 
The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, 
That it had its head bit off by its young. 

(fctatttUO-e, — Shakspeare. 
T CAN no other answer make, but, Thanks, 

And Thanks, and ever Thanks : Often Good Turns 
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay : 
But, were my worth, as is my conscience, firm, 
You should find better dealing. 

(SxratttUtie, — Congreve. 
call not to my mind what you have done! 
It sets a Debt of that account before me, 
Which shows me poor and bankrupt even in hopes ! 


©ratttUtie. — Queen Christina. 
TT is a species of agreeable servitude, to be under an Obligation 
to those we esteem. 

TTERE are the Prude severe, and gay Coquette, 

The sober Widow, and the young green Virgin, 
Cropp'd like a rose before 'tis fully blown, 
Or half its worth disclosed. Strange medley here! 
Here garrulous Old Age winds up his tale; ' 
And Jovial Youth, of lightsome, vacant heart, 
Whose every day was made of melody, 
Hears not the voice of mirth : the shrill-tongued Shrew, 
Meek as the turtle-dove, forgets her chiding. 
Here are the Wise, the Generous, and the Brave ; 
The Just, the Good, the Worthless, the Profane, 
The downright Clown, and perfectly Well-bred; 
The Fool, the Churl, the Scoundrel, and the Mean. 

Cfje <£rabc — Blair. 

JJERE all the mighty Troublers of the Earth, 

Who swam to sovereign rule through seas of blood ; 
The oppressive, sturdy, man-destroying Villains, 
Who ravaged kingdoms, and laid empires waste, 
And in a cruel wantonness of power 
Thinn'd states of half their people, and gave up 
To want the rest; now, like a storm that's spent, 
Lie hush'd, and meanly sneak behind thy Covert. 
Vain thought ! to hide them from the general scorn 
That haunts and dogs them like an injured ghost 

©rabttj). — La Rochefoucauld. 
^j-RAVITY is a mystery of the Body, invented to conceal the 
defects of the Mind. 

<£rabttj). — Saville. 
'THERE is a false Gravity that is a very ill symptom; and it 
may be said, that as rivers, which run very slowly, have always 
the most Mud at the bottom; so a solid Stiffness in the constant 
course of a man's life, is a sigu of a thick bed of Mud at the bottom 
of his Brain. 

©tabttg.— Pliny. 
A S in a man's life, so in his studies, I think it is the most beauti- 
ful and humane thing in the world, so to mingle Gravity with 
Pleasure, that the one may not sink into Melancholy, nor the other 
rise up into Wantonness. 


©ftabttg, — Young. 

"^y HAT'S the bent brow, or neck in Thought reclined? 

The body's Wisdom to conceal the mind. 
A man of sense can Artifice disdain; 
As men of wealth may venture to go plain; 
And be this Truth eternal ne'er forgot, — 
Solemnity's a cover for a sot. 

©rabttj?. — Lord Shaftesbury. 
Q.RAVITY is of the very essence of Imposture; it does not only 
make us mistake other things, but is apt perpetually almost to 
mistake itself. 

<&rabttg. — Lavater. 
Too much Gravity argues a shallow mind. 

©rabttg. — Sterne. 
Y^RICK sometimes in his wild way of talking would say, that 
Gravity was an arrant Scoundrel, and, he would add, of the 
most dangerous kind too, because a sly one: and that he verily 
believed more honest well-meaning people were bubbled out of their 
goods and money by it in one twelvemonth than b} r pocket-picking 
and shop-lifting in seven. In the naked temper which a merry 
heart discovered, he would say, there was no danger but to itself; 
whereas the very essence of Gravity was Design, and consequently 
Deceit; it was a taught trick to gain Credit of the world for more 
sense and knowledge than a man was worth, and that, with all its 
pretensions, it was no better, but often worse, than what a French 
wit had long ago defined it, viz. "a mysterious carriage of the Body 
to cover the defects of the Mind;" which definition of Gravity 
Yorick, with great imprudence, would say deserved to be wrote in 
betters of gold. 

G&xmt ffltn. — Cotton. 

^JJJtEAT Men often obtain their ends by means beyond the Grasp 
of vulgar intellect, and even by Methods diametrically opposite 
to those which the multitude would pursue. But, to effect this, 
bespeaks as profound a knowledge of Mind, as that philosopher 
evinced of Matter, who first produced ice by the agency of heat. 

G&xtaU jftten. — Cotton. 

T THINK it is Warburton who draws a very just distinction 
between a man of true Greatness and a Mediocrist. "If," says 
he, " you want to recommend yourself to the former, take care that 
lie quits your Society with a good opinion of you; if your object 
is to please the latter, take care that he leaves you with a good 
opinion of himself." 


©freat £&tn.—Anon. 

"\TOUNTAINS never shake hands. Their roots may touch : they 
may keep together some way up: but at length they part 
company, and rise into individual, insulated peaks. So is it with 
Great Men. As mountains mostly run in chains and clusters, 
crossing the plain at wider or narrower interval?, in like manner 
are there epochs in History when Great Men appear in clusters 
also. At first too they grow up together, seeming to be animated 
by the same Spirit, to have the same desires and antipathies, the 
same purposes and ends. But after a while the Genius of each 
begins to know itself, and to follow its own bent; they separate 
and diverge more and more : and those who, when young, were 
working in consort, stand alone in their old age. But if mountains 
do not shake hands, neither do they kick each other. Their human 
counterparts unfortunately are more pugnacious. Although they 
break out of the throng, and strive to soar in solitary Eminence, 
they cannot bear that their neighbours should do the same, but 
complain that they impede the View, and often try to overthrow 
them, especially if they are higher. 

<£reat ifteit.— La Rochefoucauld. 
be a Great Man one must know how to profit by the whole of 
one's Fortune. 

(kteat fflzn. — Coiton. 

TN life, we shall find many men that are great, and some men 
that are good, but very few Men that are both great and good. 

(&teat iHen. — Coiton. 

r FHE reason why Great men Meet with so little pity or attach- 
ment in Adversity, would seem to be this. The Friends of a 
Great Man were made by his Fortunes, his Enemies by himself, 
and Revenge is a much more punctual paymaster than Gratitude. 

<£teat i£len. — Coiton. 

SUBTRACT from a Great Man all that he owes to Opportunity, 
and all that he owes to Chance, all that he has gained by the 
wisdom of his friends, and by the folly of his enemies, and our 
L'robdinag will often become a Lilliputian. I think it is Voltaire 
who observes, that it was very fortunate for Cromwell that he ap- 
peared upon the stage at the precise moment when the people were 
tired of Kings ; and as unfortunate for his son Richard, that he had 
to make good his pretensions at a moment when the people were 
equally tired of Protectors. 

(£teat fflm.— Fisher Ames. 
THE most substantial glory of a country is in its virtuous great 
men : its prosperity will depend on its docility to learn from 

p. 2 


their example. That nation is fated to ignominy and servitude, for 
which .such men have lived in vain. Power may be seized by a 
nation that is yet barbarous ; and wealth may be enjoyed by one 
that it finds or renders sordid : the one is the gift and sport of acci- 
dent, and the other is the sport of power. Both are mutable, and 
have passed away without leaving behind them any other memorial 
than ruins that offend taste, and traditions that baffle conjecture. 
But the glory of Greece is imperishable, or will last as long as 
learning itself, which is its monument : it strikes an everlasting 
root, and leaves perennial blossoms on its grave. 

(kreatttcss of QWlasfyiwttm. — Sparks. 

TF the title of great man ought to be reserved for him who cannot 
be charged with an indiscretion or a vice, who spent his life in 
establishing the independence, the glory, and durable prosperity of 
his country ; who succeeded in all that he undertook, and whose 
successes were never won at the expense of honour, justice, in- 
tegrity, or by the sacrifice of a single principle — this title will not 
be denied to Washington. 

iSreatneSS. — Seneca. 
A GREAT, a Good, and a Right Mind is a kind of Divinity 
lodged in flesh, and may be the blessing of a slave as well as 
of a prince : it came from Heaven, and to Heaven it must return ; 
and it is a kind of heavenly felicity, which a pure and virtuous 
Mind enjoys, in some degree, even upon earth. 

CXteatnegg. — ShaJcspeare. 

HTHE mightier man, the mightier is the thing 

That makes him honor' d, or begets him Hate : 
For greatest Scandal waits on greatest state. 
The Moon being clouded presently is miss'd, 
But little Stars may hide them when they list. 

The crow may bathe his coal-black wings in mire, 
And unperceived fly with the filth away ; 

But if the like the snow-white swan desire, 
The stain upon his silver down will stay. 
Poor grooms are sightless night, Kings glorious day. 
Gnats are unnoted wheresoe'er they fly, 
But Eagles gazed upon with every eye. 

<&reattte0S. — La Btuyere. 
j^J-REATNESS and Discernment are two different things, and a 
love of Virtue and of Virtuous Men is a third thing 

^reatnegg* — La Rochefoucauld. 
TTOWEVER brilliant an Action may be, it ought not to pass for 
great when it is not the result of a great design. 


GreatneSS. — Shakspeare. 
They that stand high, have many blasts to shake them; 
And, if they fall, they dash themselves to piece. 

Greatness. — Coiton. 

'THE truly Great consider first, how they may gain the approba- 
tion of God ; and secondly, that of their own Conscience ; 
having done this, they would then willingly conciliate the good 
Opinion of their fellow-men. 

Greatness. — Coiton. 

HPHE Wealthy and the Noble, when they expend large sums in 
decorating their houses with the rare and costly efforts of Ge- 
nius, with busts from the chisel of a Canova, and with cartoons 
from the pencil of a Raphael, are to be commended, if they do not 
stand still here, but go on to bestow some pains and cost, that the 
Master himself be not inferior to the Mansion, and that the Owner 
be not the only thing that is little, amidst every thing else that is 

<SfreatneiS!S. — La Rochefoucauld. 
(^j-REAT Souls are not those which have less Passion and more 
Virtue than common souls, but only those which have greater 

Greatness.— Coiton. 

A GREAT Mind may change its objects, but it cannot relinquish 
them; it must have something to pursue; Variety is its re- 
laxation, and Amusement its repose. 

GreatneSS. — Sir Philip Sidney. 
r THE Hero passes through the multitude, as a man that neither 
disdains a People, nor yet is any thing tickled with their Vanity. 

GreatneSS. — Shakspeare. 
C\ PLACE and Greatness, millions of false eyes 

Are stuck upon thee ! volumes of report 
Run with these false and most contrarious quests 
Upon thy doings ! thousand ; scapes of wit 
Make thee the father of their idle dream, 
And rack thee in their fancies. 

Greatness. — Prow the Latin. 
THAT which is great or splendid is not always laudable, but what 
ever is laudable must be great. 

(Steatites. — Shakspeare. 
/^J-REAT men may jest with Saints : 'tis wit in them; 

But, in the less, foul profanation. 
That in the Captain's but a choleric word, 
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. 


(feXZaiXltm From the Latin. 

Never less alone than when alone. 

(£teatne00. — Shakspeare. 
These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; 
And all the Courses of my life do show 
I am not in the roll of common men. 

^reatneSS. — La Bruyere. 
A GREAT Mind is above doing an unjust act, above giving wav 
to Grief, above descending to Buffoonery ; and it would be in- 
vulnerable, if Compassion did not prey upon its sensibility. 
^reatlteiSS. — Shakspeare. 
T^HY, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, 

Like a Colossus ; and we petty men 
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about 
To find ourselves dishonourable Graves. 

<&XeatM88. — Anon. 
The greatest Truths are the simplest : so are the greatest Men. 
<&reatneg£u — Shakspeare. 
T HAVE touch'd the highest point of all my Greatness; 

And from that fall Meridian of my glory, 
I haste now to my setting : I shall fall 
Like a bright exhalation in the Evening, 
And no man see me more. 

<&reatltei30* — Sir Philip Sidney. 
'THE Great, in affliction, bear a countenance more Princely than 
they are wont ; for it is the temper of the highest Hearts, like 
the Palm-tree, to strive most upward when it is most burdened. 

<&Xtatrtt$8. — Shakspeare. 
Though Fortune's malice overthrow my State, 
My Mind exceeds the compass of her wheel. 

Greatness. — Cicero. 

There never was a Great Man, unless through Divine Inspiration. 

<£teattte£0. — Shakspeare. 

His Greatness was no guard 
To bar Heaven's shaft, but Sin had his reward. 

<£teattte0#. — Hail. 

pARTHLY Greatness is a nice thing, and requires so much 
chariness in the managing, as the Contentment of it cannot 

<&teatne#0. — Young. 
IF we did but know how little some enjoy of the great things 
that they possess, there would not be much Envy in the world. 


<&XeatM8B. — Skakspeare. 

Rightly to bo great, 
Is, not to stir without great Argument j 
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw, 
When Honour's at the stake. 

<&teatttCS£. -— Skakspeare. 
Place ! Form ! 
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, 
Wrench awe from Fools, and tie the wiser souls 
To thy false seeming. 

^reatneSS. — Laoater. 
TTE only is Great who has the Habits of Greatness ; who, after 
performing what none in ten thousand could accomplish, passes 
on like Samson, and " tells neither father nor mother of it." 

<&reatTU0£L — Skakspeare. 

Oh, be sick, great Greatness 
And bid thy Ceremony give thee cure ! 
Think'st thou, the fiery fever will go out 
With titles blown from Adulation ? 
Will it give place to flexure and low bending ? 
Can'st thou, when thou command'st the Beggar's knee, 
Command the Health of it ? 

(Bfreatltegg. — Skakspeare. 
f}H, hard condition ! and twin-born with Greatness, 

Subjected to the breath of every fool, 
Whose Sense no more can feel but his own wringing ! 
What infinite heart's ease must Kings neglect 
That private men enjoy ! and what have Kings 
That privates have not too, save Ceremony ? 

(fctCatttegS. — Skakspeare. 
Oh, it is excellent 
To have a Giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous 
To use it like a Giant. 

iExteatnClSS. — Home. 
The truly Generous is the truly wise; 
And he who loves not others, lives unblest. 

(KSrteatneSg. — Thomson. 
The generous pride of Virtue 
Disdains to weigh too nicely the returns 
Her Bounty meets with. Like the liberal Gods, 
From her own gracious nature she bestows, 
Nor stoops to ask reward 


<&XtatnC88. — Seneca. 
THERE is as much Greatness of Mind in the owning of a good 
turn as in the doing of it ; and we must no more force a Re- 
quital out of season, than be wanting in it. 

d^Xtditmm. — Byron. 

Unequal fortune 
Made him my debtor for some courtesies, 
Which bind the good more firmly. 

<&reatne0J3. — La Rochefoucauld. 
THERE is a kind of Elevation which does not depend on fortuue. 
It is a certain air which distinguishes us, and seems to destine 
us for great things; it is a Price which we imperceptibly set on 
ourselves. By this quality we usurp the Deference of other men ; 
and it puts us, in general, more above them than Birth, Dignity, 
or even Merit itself. 

<&reattte00 Skakspeare. 

TJE great in act, as you have been in thought; 
Be stirring as the time ; be Fire with fire ; 
Threaten the Threat'ner, and outface the brow 
Of bragging Horror: so shall inferior eyes, 
That borrow their behaviours from the great, 
Grow great by your Example, and put on 
The dauntless spirit of Resolution. 

Q&Xt&tnt88.— Addison. 
True Fortitude is seen in great exploits 
That Justice warrants, and that Wisdom guides : 
All else is tow'ring Phrensy and Distraction. 

<£teatneSJ3. — Thomson. 
T>UT to the generous still improving Mind, 

That gives the hopeless heart to sing for joy, 
Diffusing kind Beneficence around, 
Boastless, as now descends the silent dew; 
To him the long review of order'd life 
Is inward rapture, only to be felt. 

^reatneSS. — Shakspearc. 

I love the People, 
But do not like to stage me to their eyes : 
Though it do well, I do not relish well 
Their loud Applause, and aves vehement : 
Nor do I think the man of safe Discretion, 
That does affect it. 


©reatneSS. — Shakspeare. 
Some are born Great, some achieve Greatness, 
And some have Greatness thrust upon them. 

©reatlteSS. — Shakspeare. 
Let me not live, 
After my Flame lacks oil, to be the snuff 
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses 
All but new things disdain; whose Judgments are 
Mere fathers of their Garments; whose constancies 
Expire before their Fashions. 

<£reatnC00. — Shakspeare. 
'TIS certain, Greatness, once fallen out with Fortune, 
Must fall out with men too: what the declined is, 
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others, 
As feel in his own fall ; for men, like Butterflies, 
Show not their mealy wings but to the Summer. 

<&reatJU0j3. — Young. 
'Tis great, 'tis manly, to disdain disguise ; 
It shows our Spirit, or it proves our strength. 

<£ teattteSS. — Shakspeare. 
I have ventured, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
This many summers in a sea of Glory ; 
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown Pride 
At length broke under me ; and now has left me, 
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. 
Vain Pomp, and Glory of this world, I hate ye : 
I feel my heart new open'd. 
I know myself now ; and I feel within me 
A Peace above all earthly dignities, 
A still and quiet Conscience. 

Greatness. — Pope. 

TN parts superior what advantage lies ? 

Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise ? 
'Tis but to know how little can be known; 
To see all others' faults, and feel our own : 
Condemn'd in Business or in arts to drudge, 
Without a second, or without a Judge : 
Truths would you teach, or save a sinking Land ? 
All fear, none aid you, and few understand. 
Painful Pre-eminence ! yourself to view 
Above life'v weakness, and its comforts too. 


<&Xtatnz$S. — Roive. 
Great Minds, like Heaven, are pleased in doing Good, 
Though the ungrateful subjects of their favours 
Are barren in return. 

<&reatne0!3. — Young. 
High Stations tumult, but not bliss, create : 
None think the Great unhappy, but the Great. 

<&XW\Wm. — Pope. 
TURING then these Blessings to a strict account ; 

Make fair deductions j see to what they 'mount 
How much of other each is sure to cost; 
How much for other oft is wholly lost; 
How inconsistent greater goods with these ; 
How sometimes Life is risk'd, and always Ease; 
Think, and if still the things thy envy call, 
Say, would'st thou be the man to whom they fall? 
To sigh for ribbons, if thou art silly, 
Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy. 
Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life ? 
Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife. 
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined, 
The wisest, brightest, meanest of Mankind. 

<£teatneS!S. — Byron. 

From my youth upward 
My Spirit walk'd not with the Souls of men, 
Nor look'd upon the earth with human eyes ; 
The thirst of their Ambition was not mine, 
The aim of their Existence was not mine ; 
My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my powers, 
Made me a Stranger. 

Q&XZ&tWm. — Thomson. 

'Tis hardship, toil; 
'Tis sleepless nights, and never-resting days ; 
'Tis pain, 'tis danger, 'tis affronted Death ; 
'Tis equal fate for all, and changing Fortune ; 
That rear the mind to Glory, that inspire 
The noblest Virtues, and the gentlest Manners. 

(& t£atTte££L — Joanna Baillie. 
~tTE died that Death which best becomes a man, 

Who is with keenest sense of conscious ill 
And deep Remorse assail'd, a wounded Spirit. 
A death that kills the Noble and the Brave, 
And only them. He had no other wound. 


l&reatnCSS. — Thomson. 

Real Glory 
Springs from the silent conquest of ourselves ; 
And without that the Conqueror is naught 
But the first slave. 

(fexitf ♦ — Shakspeare. 
'THE violence of either Grief or Joy 

Their own enactures with themselves destroy : 
Where Joy most revels, Grief doth most lament; 
Grief joys, Joy grieves, on slender accident. 

<£rief . — Greville. 
"YyHAT an argument in favour of social connections is the obser- 
vation that by communicating our Grief we have less, and by 
communicating our Pleasure we have more. 

(Kfttcf . — Shakspeare. 
Give me no help in Lamentation, 
I am not barren to bring forth laments : 
All springs reduce their currents to mine Eyes, 
That I, being govern'd by the watery moon, 
May send forth plenteous Tears to drown the world ! 

(&Utt— Dryden. 
TV/TINE is a Grief of fury, not Despair ! 

And if a manly drop or two fall down, 
It scalds along my cheeks, like the green wood, 
That sputtering in the flames, works outward into Tears. 

(&XitL — Shakspeare. 

Grief softens the Mind, 
And makes it fearful and degenerate. 

(G*n£ i . — Metastasio. 
JF the internal Griefs of every man could be read, written on his 
forehead, how many who now excite Envy, would appear to be 
objects of Pity ? 

<£rtef . — Sliakspeare. 

Weep I cannot, 
But my heart bleeds. 

Q&XXti . — Shakspeare. 
r)H how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow ! 
Her eyes seen in the Tears, tears in her eye; 
Both crystals, where they view'd each other's Sorrow J 

Sorrow, that friendly Sighs sought still to dry; 
But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain, 
Sighs dry her cheeks, Tears make them wet again. 


(Exrief. — Joanna Baillie. 
I'll do whate'er thou wilt, I will be silent; 
But oh ! a reined Tongue, and bursting Heart, 
Are hard at once to bear. 

(krtef . — Shakspeare. 
(~)H, what a noble Combat hast thou fought, 
Between compulsion and a brave respect ! 
Let me wipe off this honourable Dew, 
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks. 
My Heart hath melted at a lady's tears, 
Being an ordinary inundation : 
But this effusion of such manly drops, 
This shower, blown up by Tempest of the Soul, 
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amazed, 
Than had I seen the vaulty top of Heaven 
Figured quite o'er with burning meteors. 
Lift up thy brow, 

And with a great heart heave away this storm. 
Commend these waters to those baby-eyes, 
That never saw the giant World enraged ; 
Nor met with Fortune, other than at feasts, 
Full-warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping. 

<£riet — Thomson. 
Sweet Source of every virtue, 

Sacred Sorrow ! he who knows not thee, 
Knows not the best emotions of the Heart, 
Those tender Tears that humanize the Soul, 

The Sigh that charms, the Pang that gives delight. 

(JBrttff . — Joanna Baillie. 
T FELT a sudden tightness grasp my throat 
As it would strangle me : such as I felt, 

1 knew it well, some twenty years ago, 

When my good father shed his Blessing on me : 
I hate to weep, and so I came away. 

ffittef* — Shakspeare. 
She shook 
The holy water from her heavenly eyes, 
And clamour moisten'd : then away she started 
To deal with Grief alone. 

<&ttef.— Shakspeare. 
Oh ! Grief hath changed me, since you saw me last 
And careful hours with Time's deformed hand 
Have written strange defeatures in my Face. 


W H] 


(CU'tef. — Shalcspeare. 
Why tell you me of moderation ; 
The Grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, 
And violenteth in a sense as strong 
As that which causeth it: How can I moderate it? 
If I could temporize with my Affection, 
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, 
The like allayment could I give my Grief; 
My Love admits no qualifying dross : 
No more my Grief, in such a precious loss. 

(&ttef . — Shalcspeare. 
EN the Sun sets, the air doth drizzle Dew. 
What, still in tears ? 
Evermore showering? In one little body 
Thou counterfeit'st a Bark, a Sea, a Wind : 
For still thy eyes, which I may call the Sea, 
Do ebb and flow with Tears; the Bark thy body is, 
Sailing in this salt Flood ; the Winds, thy Sighs; 
Who, — raging with thy Tears, and they with them, — 
Without a sudden Calm, will overset 
Thy tempest-toss'd body. 

Grtef.— Byron. 
"VET disappointed joys are Woes as deep 
As any man's clay mixture undergoes. 
Our least of Sorrows are such as we weep ; 
'Tis the vile daily drop on drop that wears 
The Soul out (like the stone) with petty Cares. 

©ftief. — Byr&n. 

TTPON her face there was the tint of Grief, 
The settled Shadow of nn inward Strife, 
And an unquiet drooping of the Eye, 
As if its lid were charged with unshed tears. 


(£* ncf. — Shalcspeare. 
I" AM not prone to Weeping, as our sex 

Commonly are; the want of which vain dew, 
Perchance, shall dry your Pities; but I have 
That honourable Grief lodged here, which burns 
Worse than Tears drown. 

iDttCf. — Young. 
Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls, 
Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest : 
Inhuman, or effeminate, his Heart. 


(S5rtt'0f. — Spenser. 
T ONG thus he chew'd the cud of inward Griefe, 

And did consume his Gall with Anguish sore; 
Still when he mused on his late mischiefe, 
Then still the smart thereof increased more, 
And seem'd more grievous than it was before. 

&Utt — Spenser. 
THUS is my Summer worn away and wasted, 
Thus is my Harvest hasten'd all to rathe ; 
The ear that budded fair is burnt and blasted ; 

And all my hoped gain is turn'd to scathe. 
Of all the seed that in my youth was sown, 
Was none but Brakes and Brambles to be mown. 

(Exttef ♦ — Shakspeare. 
f^J-RIEF fills the room up of my absent Child ; 

Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; 
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, 
Remembers me of all his gracious parts; 
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form : 
Then have I reason to be fond of Grief. 

<&riei — Spenser. 

'TO'HICH when she heard, as in despightfull wise 
She wilfully her sorrow did augment, 

And offer' d hope of comfort did despise : 
Her golden lockes most cruelly she rent, 
And scratcht her face with ghastly Dreriment; 

Ne would she speake, ne see, ne yet be seene, 
But hid her Visage, and her Head downe bent, 

Either for grievous Shame, or for great Teene, 

As if her Heart with Sorrow had transfixed beene. 

ffitttet— Byron. 

THROUGH many a clime 'tis mine to go, 

With many a retrospection curst, 
And all my Solace is to know, 

Whate'er betides, I've known the worst. 
What is that worst ? Nay, do not ask, 

In pity from the search forbear : 
Smile on — nor venture to unmask 

Man's heart, and view the Hell that's there. 

(flxXitf . — Shakspeare. 
Every one can master a Grief, but he that has it. 

©fttef* — Shakspeare. 

Honest plain words best pierce the ear of Grief. 


<&CtCf. — Spenser. 
T^THAT equall torment to the G-riefe of Mind, 
And pyning Anguish hid in gentle hart, 
That inly feeds itself e with thoughts unkind, 
And nourisheth her owne consuming Smart ? 
What medicine can any leach's art 

Yeeld such a sore, that doth her Grievance hide, 
And will to none her Maladie impart ? 

©ftttf.— Spenser. 

"YT/'HICH whenas Seudamour did heare, his heart 

Was thril'd with inward Griefe, as when in chace 
The Parthian strikes a stag with shivering dart, 
The beast astonisht stands in middest of his Smart. 

(kriet — Shakspeare. 
I PRAY thee, cease thy counsel, 
Which falls into mine ears as profitless 
As water in a sieve : give not me counsel ; 
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear, 
But such a one, whose wrongs do suit with mine. 
Bring me a Father, that so loved his Child, 
Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, 
And bid him speak of Patience j 
Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, 
And let it answer every strain for strain ; 
As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, 
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form : 
If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard ; 
Cry — Sorrow, wag! and hem, when he should groan; 
Patch Grief with proverbs ; make Misfortune drunk 
With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, 
And I of him will gather Patience. 
But there is no such man. 

Q&Xitf . — Shakspeare. 

Ah, my tender Babes ! 
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets ! 
If yet your gentle Souls fly in the air — 
Hover about me with your airy wings, 
And hear your mother's Lamentation. 


©fttef.— Drydm. 

! I have not words to tell my Grief; 
To vent my Sorrow would be some relief; 
Light Sufferings give us leisure to complain j 
We groan, we cannot speak, in greater Pain. 


TPHE shadow of my Sorrow? Ha! let's see : — 

'Tis very true, my Grief lies all within ; 
And these external manners of Lament 
Are merely shadows to the unseen Grief, 
That swells with silence in the tortured Soul; 
There lies the Substance. 

<&ttei — Moore. 
HPHE world had just begun to steal, 

Each hope, that led me lightly on; 
I felt not as I used to feel, 

And life grew dark, and Love was gone ! 
No eye to mingle Sorrow's tear, 

No lip to mingle Pleasure's breath, 
No tongue to call me kind and dear — 
'Twas gloomy, and I wish'd for Death ! 

G&Xitf . — ShaJcspeare. 
£)H that this too too solid Flesh would melt, 

Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew ! 
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd 
His Canon 'gainst Self-slaughter ! God ! God! 
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the uses of this world ! 
Fie on't ! fie ! 'tis an unweeded Garden, 
That grows to Seed ; things rank, and gross in nature, 
Possess it merely. 

<£wf ♦ — Campbell. 

I alone am left on earth ! 
To whom nor Relative nor Blood remains ; 
No ! — not a kindred drop that runs in human veins. 

(&Xitf Shakspeare. 

The robb'd that smiles, steals something from the thief; 
He robs himself, that spends a bootless Grief. 

<85J ttef . — Byron, 
T^THAT is the worst of woes that wait on Age ? 

What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow ? 
To view each loved one blotted from life's page, 
And be alone on Earth, as I am now. 

<&Wt— Moore. 
A LAS ! the Breast that inly bleeds 

Hath nought to dread from outward blow : 
Who falls from all he knows of Bliss 
Cares little into what abyss. 



©rtef.— Skakspeare. 
To mourn a Mischief that is past and gone, 
Is the next way to draw new Mischief on. 

©fntf. — Skakspeare. 

"PACH substance of a Grief hath twenty shadows, 

Which show like Grief itself, but are not so : 
For Sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding Tears, 
Divides one thing entire, to many objects. 

<&rief . — Spenser. 
all the world, and all in it I hate, 
Because it changeth ever to and fro, 
And never standeth in one certain state, 

But still unsteadfas^ round about doth go 
Like a mill-wheel, in midst of Misery, 

Driven with streams of wretchedness and woe, 
That dying lives, and living still does die. 

<£rief . — Skakspeare. 
Some Grief shows much of Love ; 
But much of Grief shows still some want of Wit. 

<&Wf. — Byron. 
'THE wither'd frame, the ruin'd mind, 

The wrack by passion left behind, 
A shrivell'd scroll, a scatter' d leaf, 
Sear'd by the autumn-blast of Grief ! 

t&Xitf . — Dryden. 
He withers at his Heart, and looks as wan 
As the pale spectre of a murder'd man. 

<&rief. — Skakspeare. 
TTAD he the motive and the cue for Passion, 

That I have, he would drown the stage with Tears 
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech ; 
Make mad the Guilty, and appal the Free, 
Confound the ignorant; and amaze, indeed, 
The very faculties of eyes and ears. 

<&rief. — Skakspeare. 
He raised a Sigh so piteous and profound, 
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk, 
And end his being. 

<&rtet — Skakspeare. 
What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; 
Give Sorrow words : the Grief, that does not speak, 
Whispers the o'er-fraught Heart, and bids it break. 


(&rtef , — Spenser. 
1V"EXT him went Griefe and Fury, matcht yfere ; 

Griefe all in sable sorrowfully clad, 
Downe hanging his dull head with heavy chere, 

Yet inly being more than seeming sad ; 

A paire of pincers in his hand he had, 
"With which he pinched many people to the Hart, 

That from thenceforth a wretched life they ladd 
In wilfull languor and consuming smart, 
Dying each day with inward wounds of Dolour's dart. 

(Ex UCf . — Shakspeare. 
"VTOST subject is the fattest soil to weeds ; 
And he, the noble Image of my youth, 
Is overspread with them : therefore my Grief 
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death. 

(fixttrf . — Joanna Baillie. 
Like a pent-up flood, swoln to the height, 
He pour'd his Griefs into my breast with Tears, 
Such as the manliest men in their cross'd lives 
Are sometimes forced to shed. 

<&titf . — Shakspeare. 
My Grief lies all within, 
And these external manners of laments 
Are merely shadows to the unseen Grief, 
That swells with silence in the tortured Sou 

<&tkf. — Spenser. 
T^ITH that adowne, out of her christall eyne, 
Few trickling Teares she softly forth let fall, 
That like two orient perles did purely shyne 
Upon her snowy Cheeke ; and therewithall 
She sighed soft, that none so bestiall 
Nor salvage hart, but ruth of her sad plight 
Would make to melt, or pitteously appall. 

(GxHCf . — Shakspeare. 
(~)H, break, my Heart ! — poor bankrupt, break at once ! 

To prison, eyes ! ne'er look on liberty ! 
Vile earth, to earth resign ; end motion here ; 
And thou, and Romeo, press one heavy Bier. 

d^rtef . — Shakspeare. 
No, I'll not weep : — 
I have full cause of weeping; but this Heart 
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, 
Ere I'll weep : — Fool, I shall go mad ! 


Xriff, — La Rochefoucauld. 
T'HERE are divers sorts of hypocrisy in Grief. In one, under 
pretext of lamenting the loss of a person who is dear to us, we 
lament ourselves, we lament the diminution of our Advantages, of 
our Pleasures, of our Consideration. We regret the good opinion 
that was entertained of us. Thus the Dead get the credit of tears 
which are only shed for the Living. I call this a species of hy- 
pocrisy, because in this sort of Grief we deceive ourselves. There 
is yet another species of Tears which have very petty sources, which 
flow easily, and as easily are dried : we weep to acquire the reputa- 
tion of a tender Heart; we weep to be pitied \ we weep to be wept 
over: in fine, we weep to avoid the shame of not weeping. 

CrTtef. — Martial. 

She grieves sincerely who grieves when alone. 

tfcrief.— ■ Shakspcare. 
Like the Lily, 
That once was mistress of the field, and flourished, 
I'll hang my Head, and perish. 

i&XlCi.— Pliny. 
TTOWEVER, I by no means wish to become less susceptible of 
Tenderness. I know these kind of misfortunes would be esti- 
mated by other persons only as common losses, and from such Sen- 
sations they would conceive themselves great and wise men. I 
shall not determine cither their Greatness or their "Wisdom ; but I 
am certain they have no Humanity. It is the part of a man to be 
affected with Grief, to feel Sorrow, at the same time that he is to 
resist it, and to admit of Comfort. 

i£ fief. — Shakspcare. 

Ah, cut my lace asunder ! 
That my pent Heart may have some scope to beat, 
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news. 

(£ Xiti . — Shakspcare. 
Spirits of Peace, where are ye ? Are ye all gone? 
And leave me here in Wretchedness behind ye ? 

ifyutf. — Shakspeare. 
TIT HEN remedies are past, the Griefs are ended, 

By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. 
To mourn a Mischief that is past and gone, 
Is the next way to draw new Mischief on. 
What cannot be preserved when Fortune takes, 
Patience her injury a mockery makes. 
The robb'd. that smile?, steals something from the Thief; 
He robs himself, that spends a bootless Grief. 


<&Xitf. — Byron. 

Hide thy Tears — 
I do not bid thee not to shed them — 'twere 
Easier to stop Euphrates at its source 
Than one tear of a true and tender Heart — 
But let me not behold them ; they unman me. 

<£ttef . — Shakspeare. 
''TIS double Death to drown in ken of shore: 

He ten times pines, that pines beholding food : 
To see the salve, doth make the Wound ache more ; 
Great Grief grieves most at that would do it good : 
Deep Woes roll forward like a gentle flood, 
Who, being stopp'd, the bounding banks o'erflows; 
Grief dallied with, nor law nor limits knows. 

ffiWf.— Shakspeare. 

Can counsel, and speak comfort to that Grief, 
Which they themselves not feel ; but tasting it, 
Their counsel turns to Passion, which before 
Would give preceptial medicine to Rage, 
Fetter strong Madness in a silken thread, 
Charm Ache with air, and Agony with words : 
No, no: 'tis all men's office to speak Patience 
To those that wriug under the load of Sorrow ; 
But no man's virtue, nor Sufficiency, 
To be so moral, when he shall endure 
The like himself. 

©robellers. — Petsius. 

Souls, in whom no heavenly Fire is found, 
Fat Minds, and ever grovelling on the ground ! 

(£rumt)lmg. — Graves. 
"PVERY one must see daily instances of people who complain from 
a mere Habit of Complaining. 

<£rumi)lmg. — Greviiu. 

HTHERE is an unfortunate disposition in a man to attend much 
more to the Faults of his companions which offend him, than 
to their Perfections which please him. 

©rtttlt. — Milton. 

Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat 
Sighing through all her works gave signs of Wo. 

Jgafett*— Cotton. 

TT is almost as difficult to make a man unlearn his Errors as his 


J9af)tt — Seneca. 
TO things which you bear with Impatience you should accustom 
yourself, and, by Habit, you will bear them well. 

Jl}al) it.— Tucker. 
THERE are Habits contracted by bad example, or bad manage- 
ment, before we have Judgment to discern their approaches, or 
because the eye of Reason is laid asleep, or has not compass of view 
sufficient to look around on every quarter. 

J£}at) it.— Shakspeare. 
T^EEP a Gamester from the dice, and a good Student from his 
book, and it is wonderful. 

IQabit, — Horace. 
A NEW Cask will long preserve the Tincture of the liquor with 
which it is first impregnated. 

J^abtt Shakspeare. 

'THAT monster, Custom, who all sense doth eat 

Of Habit's devil, is angel yet in this; 
That to the use of Actions fair and good 
He likewise gives a frock, or livery, 
That aptly is put on ; Refrain to-night : 
And that shall lend a kind of easiness 
To the next Abstinence : the next more easy : 
For Use almost can change the stamp of nature, 
And either curb the Devil, or throw him out 
With wondrous potency. 

3Bappmej88. — From the French. 
THE Happiness of the human race in this world does not consist 
in our being devoid of Passions, but in our learning to command 

J^appmeSS. — Addison. 
TRUE Happiness is of a retired nature, and an enemy to pomp 
and noise; it arises, in the first place, from the enjoyment of 
one's self: and in the next, from the Friendship and Conversation 
of a few select Companions : false Happiness loves to be in a crowd, 
and to draw the eyes of the world upon her. She does not receive 
any Satisfaction from the applauses which she gives herself, but 
from the admiration which she raises in others. 

Jgapptne&S. — Shakspeare. 
THEY are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve 
with nothing : It is no mean Happiness, therefore, to be 
seated in the mean : Superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but 
Competency lives longer 


JtJapphteSS. — Goldsmith. 
TT'VERY mind seems capable of entertaining a certain quantity 
of Happiness, which no institutions can increase, no circum- 
stances alter, and entirely independent on Fortune. Let any man 
compare his present Fortune with the past, and he will probably 
find himself, upon the whole, neither better nor worse than for- 

ffltiippiMm* — Stede. 

TNDOLENCE of body and mind, when we aim at no more, is 
very frequently enjoyed ; but the very inquiry after Happiness 
has something restless in it, which a man who lives in a series of 
temperate meals, friendly conversations, and easy slumbers, gives 
himself no trouble about it. While men of Refinement are talking 
of Tranquillity, he possesses it. 

Jgappme**. — Thomson. 

"PVEN not all these, in one rich lot combined, 

Can make the happy man, without the mind; 
Where Judgment sits clear-sighted, and surveys 
The Chain of Reason with unerring gaze ; 
W 7 here Fancy lives, and to the brightening eyes, 
His fairer scenes, and bolder figures rise ; 
Where social Love exerts her soft command, 
And plays the Passions with a tender hand, 
Whence every Virtue flows, in rival strife, 
And all the moral Harmony of life. 

J^appmeSS. — Shakspeare. 
The bitter past, more welcome is the Sweet. 

Jgapp in ess,— Pope. 

CARDER is heaven's first law; and this confest, 
Some are, and must be, greater than the rest, 
More rich, more wise; but who infers from hence 
That such are happier, shocks all common sense. 
Heaven to mankind impartial we confess, 
If all are equal in their Happiness : 
But mutual wants this Happiness increase 
All Nature's difference keeps all Nature's peace. 
Condition, circumstance, is not the thing; 
Bliss is the same in subject or in King, 
In who obtain defence, or who defend, 
In him who is, or him who finds a friend : 
Heaven breathes through every member of the whole. 
One common blessing, as one common Soul. 


ffiapptttCSS.— La Rochefoucauld. 
TT is a kind of Happiness to know to what extent we may be 

JgappmCSS.— Mrs. Tiglic. 

OH happy you ! who, blest with present Bliss, 
See not with fatal prescience future tears, 

Nor the dear moment of Enjoyment miss 
Through gloomy Discontent, or sullen Fears 
Foreboding many a storm for coming years ; 

Change is the lot of all. Ourselves with scorn 
Perhaps shall view what now so fair appears ; 

And wonder whence the fancied Charm was born, 

Which now with vain Despair from our fond grasp is torn ! 

Jftapp meSS. — Shakspeare. 
TTIS overthrow heap'd Happiness upon him ; 

For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 
And found the Blessedness of being little : 
And, to add greater Honours to his age 
Than man could give him, he died, fearing God. 

&aMint$B. — Greoitte. 

TTABDLY a man, whatever his circumstances and situation, but 
if you get his Confidence, will tell you that he is not happy. 
It is however certain all men are not unhappy in the same degree, 
though by these accounts we might almost be tempted to think so. 
Is not this to be accounted for, by supposing that all men measure 
the Happiness they possess by the Happiness they desire, or think 
they deserve. 

Ji)appmCSS. — Horace. 
"\yHAT you demand is here, or at Ulubrae." You traverse the 
world in search of Happiness, which is within the reach of 
every man ; a contented Mind confers it on all. 

?i)appme£S. — Shakspeare. 
TyHAT ! we have many goodly days to see : 

The liquid drops of Tears that you have shed, 
Shall come again, transform'd to orient Pearl; 
Advantaging their loan, with interest 
Often-times-double gain of Happiness. 

?t)appmC00. — Colton. 
TTAPPINESS is that single and glorious thing, which is the 
very Light and Sun of the whole animated universe, and 
where she is not, it were better that nothing should be. Without 
hei, Wisdom is but a shadow, and Virtue a name; she is their 
sovereign mistress. 


Jgappme**.— Pope. 

HH, Happiness ! our being's end and aim ; 

Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content, — whate'er thy name : 
That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh, 
For which we bear to live, or dare to die, 
Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, 
O'erlook'd, seen double, by the Fool and Wise : 
Plant of celestial seed ! if dropp'd below, 
Say in what mortal Soil thou deign' st to grow? 

?6apphtC!S!3. — Mrs. TigJie. 

~U"AIN schemer, think not to prolong thy Joy ! 
But cherish while it lasts the heavenly boon ! 

Expand thy sails ! thy little bark shall fly 

With the full tide of Pleasure ! though it soon 
May feel the influence of the changeful Moon, 

It yet is thine ! then let not doubts obscure 
With cloudy vapours vail thy brilliant Noon, 

Nor let Suspicion's tainted breath impure 

Poison the favouring gale which speeds thy course secure ! 

Jgappme00* — Coiton. 

TN the constitution both of our mind and of our body, every thing 
must go on right, and harmonize well together to make us 
happy : but should one thing go wrong, that is quite enough to 
make us miserable ; and, although the Joys of this world are vain 
and short, yet its Sorrows are real and lasting; for I will show 
you a ton of perfect Pain with greater ease than one ounce of 
perfect Pleasure ; and he knows little of himself, or of the world, 
who does not think it sufficient Happiness to be free from Sorrow; 
therefore, give a wise man Health, and he will give himself every 
other thing. 

JgappmeiSS, — Cowper. 
T^HE heart is hard in nature, and unfit 
For human fellowship, as being void 
Of Sympathy, and therefore dead alike 
To Love and Friendship both, that is not pleased 
With sight of animals enjoying life, 
Nor feels their Happiness augment his own. 

i^appmcss, — Coiton. 

TTAPPINESS is much more equally divided than some of us 
imagine. One man shall possess most of the Materials, but 
little of the Thing; another may possess much of the Thing, but 
very few of the Materials. 


J^apptnCSS. — Shakspeare. 
T EARN that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man Hate, envy no 
man's Happiness ; glad of other men's good ; content with my 

Jgapp mess. — Pope. 

[^NOW, all the good that individuals find, 

Or God and Nature meant to mere mankind, 
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, 
Lie in three words, Health, Peace, and Competence 
But Health consists with temperance alone ; 
And Peace, Virtue ! Peace is all thy own. 
The good or bad the gifts of Fortune gain ; 
But these less taste them, as they worse obtain. 

J^appmrSS. — Beaumont and Fletcher. 
'THERE is no man but may make his Paradise, 

And it is nothing but his Love and Dotage 
Upon the World's foul joys, that keeps him out on't; 
For he that lives retired in mind and spirit, 
Is still in Paradise. 

#)apphuss.— Burns. 

'THINK ye, that sic as you and I, 

Wha drudge and drive thro' wet and dry, 

Wi' never-ceasing toil ; 
Think ye, are we less blest than they, 
Wha scarcely tent us in their way, 

As hardly worth their while ? 

?i)apptnCSS. — Dry den. 
They live too long, who Happiness out-live : 
For life and death are things indifferent ; 
Each to be chose, as either brings Content. 

JftappmeSS. — Shakspeare. 
OH, how bitter a thing it is to look into Happiness through an- 
other man's eyes ! 

Ji^apptlteSS. — Shakspeare. 
CILENCE is the perfected herald of Joy : I were but little Happy, 
if I could say how much. 

^appmeSS. — Burns. 
TTS no' in Books, its no' in lear, 

To make us truly blest : 
If Happiness has not her seat 

And centre in the Breast, 
We may be wise, or rich or great, 

But never can be blest. 


?l]apptne0!5, —Joanna Baillie. 
'THE Bliss e'en of a moment, still is Bliss. 

Thou wouldst not of her dew-drops spoil the thorn 
Because her Glory will not last till noon ; 
Nor still the lightsome gambols of the Colt, 
Whose neck to-morrow's joke will gall. 

Jftapptntm — Young. 
"TO'HAT makes Man wretched ? Happiness denied ? 

No : His Happiness disdain'd. 
She comes too meanly drest to win our smile ; 
And calls herself Content, a homely name ! 
Our flame is Transport, and Conteut our scorn. 
Ambition turns, and shuts the door against her, 
And weds a Toil, a Tempest, in her stead. 

?l}appm*m — Greville. 
T KNOW not whether the truest and best state of Nature be not 
a state of more Prejudice and Ignorance than we are aware of. 

JgapptrteSS. —JDuchesse de Praslin. 
( )UR Happiness in this world depends on the affections we are 
enabled to inspire. 

?^appmeiS0. — Prudentius. 
"\\TE thro' this maze of Life one Lord obey, 

Whose Light and Grace unerring lead the way. 
By Hope and Faith secure of future bliss, 
Gladly the joys of present Life we miss; 
For baffled mortals still attempt in vain, 
Present and future Bliss at once to gain. 

JftappmeSS. — Shenstone. 
TT is one species of Despair to have no room to hope for any addi- 
tion to one's Happiness. His following wish must then be to 
wish he had some fresh object for his wishes; a strong Argument 
that our minds and bodies were both meant to be for ever active. 

JgappmeSg. — Sterne. 
A LAS ! if the principles of Contentment are not within us, — the 
height of Station and worldly Grandeur will as soon add a cubit 
to a man's stature as to his Happiness. 

Jgapp mem —Johnson. 
'THE fountain of Content must spring up in the Mind ; and he, 
who has so little knowledge of human nature, as to seek Hap- 
piness by changing any thing but his own Dispositions, will waste 
his life in fruitless efforts, and multiply the Griefs which he pur- 
poses to remove. 


JgapphUSS.— Landor. 
/"J-OODNESS does not more certainly make men happy, than Hap- 
piness makes them good. We must distinguish between Feli- 
city and Prosperity, for Prosperity leads often to Ambition, and 
Ambition to Disappointment; the course is then over, the wheel 
turns round but once, while the reaction of Goodness and Happi- 
ness is perpetual. 

Jgappmess.— Paiey. 

Happiness consists in the constitution of the Habits. 


TF Happiness were an attainment of the Mind, to be acquired £S 
a science or an art is learnt from the master, the teacher might 
justly be considered as the Vicegerent of God, and no place could 
contain the numbers that would flock to his School ; but in this, 
the Almighty has delegated his power to every person only respect- 
ing himself. 

JfrappmeSg. — Seneca. 
T'HE great Blessings of mankind are within us, and within our 
reach, but we shut our Eyes, and, like people in the dark, we 
fall foul upon the very thing we search for, without finding it. 

JtyapptrteSJEf. —Addison. 
/CONTENTMENT produces, in some measure, all those effects 
which the Alchemist usually ascribes to what he calls the Phi- 
losopher's Stone ; and if it does not bring Riches, it does the same 
thing by banishing the desire of them. 

JftappmcSS. — Mackenzie. 
T HAVE observed one ingredient somewhat necessary in a man's 
composition toward Happiness, which people of feeling would 
do well to acquire — a certain respect for the follies of mankind : for 
there are so many Fools whom the world entitles to regard, whom 
accident has placed in heights of which they are unworthy, that he 
who cannot restrain his Contempt or Indignation at the sight, will 
be too often quarrelling with the disposal of things to relish that 
share which is allotted to himself. 

feappme**.— Burton. 

A S the Ivy twines around the Oak, so does Misery and Misfortune 
encompass the Happiness of man. Felicity, pure and unalloyed 
Felicity, is not a plant of earthly growth; her gardens are the 

JftappmeSS. — Longfellow. 
TTIE rays of Happiness, like those of light, are colourless when 



%fy&ppint8n. — Seneca. 

pjE must be Miserable who does not consider himself Happy, 
although he could command the Universe ; no man can bo 
Happy who does not think himself so, for it signifies not how 
exalted soever your Station may be, if it appears to you bad. 

JgappmeSS. — Budgell. 
A S nothing is more natural than for every one to desire to be 
happy, it is not to be wondered at that the wisest men in all 
ages have spent so much time to discover what Happiness is, and 
wherein it chiefly consists. An eminent writer, named Varro, 
reckons up no less than two hundred and eighty-eight different 
Opinions upon this subject ; and another, called Lucian, after 
having given us a long catalogue of the notions of several philoso- 
phers, endeavours to show the Absurdity of all of them, without 
establishing any thing of his own. 

JftatfmeSS. — Shakspeare. 

Yet famine, 
Ere clean it o'erthrow Nature, makes it valiant. 
Plenty, and peace, breeds Cowards ; Hardness ever 
Of Hardness is mother. 

J^at&ttegS. — Shakspeare. 
T HAVE almost forgot the taste of Fears : 

The time has been, my senses would have cool'd 
To hear a night-shriek ; and my fell of hair 
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir 
As life were in't : I have supp'd full of Horrors; 
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous Thoughts, 
Cannot once start me. 

W§Z J^adOt— Shakspeare. 

'Tis the Strumpet's plague, 
To beguile many, and be beguiled by one. 

Jgatteu"* — Plutarch. 
TF you hate your Enemies, you will contract such a vicious habit 
of mind, as by degrees will break out upon those who are your 
Friends, or those who are indifferent to you. 

Jftattru'. — La Brut/ere. 
T^HE passion of Hatred is so durable, and so inveterate, that the 
surest prognostic of Death in a sick man is a wish for Reconci- 

Jftatretr. — Tacitus. 
TT is the nature of the human disposition to Hate him whom you 
have injured. 


^atECu'. — La Rochefoucauld. 
When our Hatred is too keen, it places us beneath those we hate. 

J^atrefo. — La Brmjere. 
TO be deprived of the person we love, is a Happiness in com- 
parison of living with one we hate. 

#)atteK— Byron. 
T\TARP'D by the world in Disappointment's school, 

In words too wise, in conduct there a fool; 
Too firm to yield, and far too proud to stoop, 
Doom'd by his very virtues for a dupe, 
He cursed those Virtues as the cause of ill, 
And not the traitors who betray'd him still ; 
Nor deem'd that gifts bestow' d on better men, 
Had left him joy, and means to give again. 
Fear'd, shunn'd, belied, ere Youth had lost her force, 
He hated man too much to feel Remorse, 
And thought the voice of Wrath a sacred call, 
To pay the Injuries of some on all. 

JftcaltJ). — Sir W. Temple. 
HTHE only way for a rich man to be healthy is, by Exercise and 
Abstinence, to live as if he was poor. 

Jftealtf). — ShaJcspeare. 
JNFIRMITY doth still neglect all office 

Whereto our Health is bound ; we are not ourselves 
When Nature, being oppress' d, commands the mind 
To suffer with the body. 

ffit&ltfy.— Johnson. 
TTEALTH is certainly more valuable than Money, because it is by 

Health that Money is procured; but thousands and millions 
are of small avail to alleviate the protracted tortures of the Gout, 
to repair the broken organs of sense, or resuscitate the powers of 
Digestion. Poverty is, indeed, an evil from which we naturally 
fly ; but let us not run from one enemy to another, nor take shelter 
iu the arms of Sickness. 

$}ealtf). — Sterne. 
Q BLESSED Health ! thou art above all Gold and Treasure j 

'tis thou who enlargest the Soul, and openest all its powers 
to receive instruction, and to relish Virtue. — He that has thee has 
little more to wish for ! and he that is so wretched as to want thee, 
wants every thing with thee. 

jgealtf)*— Churchill. 

The surest road to Health, say what they will, 
Is never to suppose we shall be ill. 


Itycaltfy. — Litcan. 

Thou chiefest Good ! 
Bestow'd by Heaven, but seldom understood. 

Jgealtf). — Sir W. Temple. 
□HEALTH is the soul that animates all enjoyments of life, which 
fade, and are tasteless, if not dead, without it : a man starves 
at the best and the greatest Tables, makes faces at the noblest and 
most delicate Wines, is old and impotent in Seraglios of the most 
sparkling beauties, poor and wretched in the midst of the greatest 
treasures and fortunes; with common diseases Strength grows de- 
crepit, Youth loses all vigour, and Beauty all charms; Music 
grows harsh, and Conversation disagreeable ; Palaces are prisons, 
or of equal confinement ; Riches are useless, Honour and Attend- 
ance are cumbersome, and crowns themselves are a burden : but 
if Diseases are painful and violent, they equal all conditions of 
life, make no difference between a Prince and a Beggar ; and a fit 
of the stone or the colic puts a King to the rack, and makes him 
as miserable as he can do the meanest, the worst, and most criminal 
of his subjects. 

Jgealtj)-— Martial. 
For Life is not to live, but to be Well. 

Jgealtfj. — Clcmdian. 

XT AIL, greatest Good Dardanian fields bestow, 

At whose command Paeonian waters flow ; 
Unpurchased Health ! that dost thy aid impart 
Both to the Patient and the Doctor's art ! 

J^ealtf) — Colton. 
THERE is this difference between those two temporal blessings, 
Health and Money : Money is the most envied, but the least 
enjoyed; Health is the most enjoyed, but the least envied: and 
this superiority of the latter is still more obvious when we reflect, 
that the poorest man would not part with Health for Money, but 
that the richest would gladly part with all their Money for Health. 

jgealtf).— Colton. 

A NGUISH of Mind has driven thousands to suicide; Anguish of 

Body, none. This proves that the Health of the Mind is of 

far more consequence to our Happiness than the Health of the 

Body, although both are deserving of much more attention than 

either of them receives. 

^ealtf)- — Sterne. 
PEOPLE who are always taking care of their Health are like 
misers, who are hoarding up a treasure which they have never 
spirit enough to enjoy. 


J^Ctlltf). — La Rochefoucauld. 
"PRESERVING the Health by too strict a regimen is a wearisome 

J^ealtf), — Sir Philip Sidney. 
Great Temp' ranee, open air, 
Easy labour, little Care. 

Cf)e yfyZWtt — Shakspeare. 
All offences come from the Heart. 

Q&xeat QltaXtX.—Bi/ron. 

Look on me ! there is an order 
Of mortals on the earth, who do become 
Old in their youth, and die ere middle age, 
Without the violence of warlike Death ; 
Some perishing of Pleasure — some of Study — 
Some worn with Toil — some of mere weariness- 
Some of Disease — and some of Insanity — 
And some of wither' d, or of broken Hearts; 
For this last is a malady which slays 
More than are number'd in the lists of Fate, 
Taking all shapes, and bearing many names. 

tytabtU. — Lavater. 
THE Generous who is always Just, and the Just who is always 
Generous, may, unannounced, approach the throne of Heaven. 

SKabntlj) Hobe. — Edwards. 
"pVERY saint in Heaven is as a flower in the garden of God, and 
holy love is the fragrance and sweet odour that they all send 
forth, and with which they fill the bowers of that paradise above. 
Every soul there is as a note in some concert of delightful music, 
that sweetly harmonizes with every other note, and all together 
blend in the most rapturous strains in praising God and the Lamb 
for ever. 

Cf)e #}Cabcn0.— Young. 
QNE Sun by day, by night ten thousand shine ; 

And light us deep into the Deity ; 
How boundless in Magnificence and Might ! 
Oh what a confluence of ethereal Fires, 
From urns unnumber'd, down the steep of Heaven, 
Streams to a point, and centers in my sight ! 
Nor tarries there ; I feel it at my Heart ; 
My Heart, at once, it humbles and exalts; 
Lays it in dust, and calls it to the Skies. 



Cfje ^eabens, — Byron. 

VE Stars ! which are the poetry of Heaven, 

If in your bright leaves we would read the Fate 
Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, 
That in our Aspirations to be great, 
Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, 
And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are 

A Beauty and a Mystery, and create 
In us such love and reverence from afar, 
That Fortune, Fame, Power, Life, have named themselves a star. 

Cfje J^eabens.— Pope. 

Nature, and Nature's laws, lay hid in night; 
God said, let Newton be ; and all was Light. 

C f)e J^eabettS, — Young. 
HAT involution ! what extent ! what swarms 
Of worlds, that laugh at Earth ! immensely great ! 
Immensely distant from each other's spheres; 
What then the wond'rous Space through which they roll ? 
At once it quite engulfs all human thought; 
'Tis comprehension's absolute Defeat. 

C f)e ?$eabett!5. — Young. 
HPHIS Prospect vast, what is it ? — weigh'd aright, 

'Tis Nature's system of Divinity, 
And every student of the Night inspires. 
'Tis elder Scripture, writ by God's own hand : 
Scripture authentic ! uncorrupt by man. 

WtyZ ^eabemi, — Byron. 

Oh, thou beautiful 
And unimaginable Ether ! and 
Ye multiplying masses of increased 
And still-increasing Lights ! what are ye ? what 
Is this blue wilderness of interminable 
Air, where ye roll along, as I have seen 
The leaves along the limpid streams of Eden ? 
Is your course measured for ye ? Or do ye 
Sweep on in your unbounded Revelry 
Through an aerial universe of endless 
Expansion, at which my soul aches to think, 
Intoxicated with Eternity ? 
God ! Gods ! or whatsoe'er ye are ! 
How beautiful ye are ! how beautiful 
Your works, or accident, or whatsoe'er 
They may be ! Let me die, as atoms die, 


(If that they die,) or know ye in your Might 
And Knowledge ! My thoughts are not in this hour 
Unworthy what I see, though my dust is; 
Spirit ! let me expire, or see them nearer. 

Cf)e JgerO.— Byron. 
A LL these he wielded to command assent : 

But where he wish'd to win, so well unbent, 
That kindness cancell'd Fear in those who heard, 
And others' gifts show'd mean beside his word, 
When echoed to the Heart as from his own, 
His deep yet tender melody of tone : 
But such was foreign to his wonted mood, 
He cared not what he soften'd, but subdued ; 
The evil passions of his youth had made 
Him value less who loved — than what obey'd. 

2Tf)e Q}CX0.— Churchill 
THINGS of the noblest kind his Genius drew, 

And look'd through Nature at a single view : 
A loose he gave to his unbounded Soul, 
And taught new lands to rise, new seas to roll ; 
Call'd into being scenes unknown before, 
And, passing Nature's bounds, was something more. 

Cf)e Q}tZ0.— Byron. 
Well had he learn'd to curb the crowd, 
By arts that vail, and oft preserve the proud; 
His was the lofty Port, the distant Mien, 
That seems to shun the sight — and awes if seen : 
The solemn Aspect, and the high-born Eye, 
That checks low tnirth, but lacks not Courtesy. 

€f)e Jftero. — Scott. 

"PROUD was his Tone, but calm ; his Eye 

Had that compelling Dignity, 
His Mien that bearing haught and high, 
Which common spirits fear. 

Cf)e JftcrO.— Byron. 
;r riS thus the spirit of a single mind 

Makes that of multitudes take one direction, 
As roll the waters to the breathing wind, 

Or roams the herd beneath the bull's protection ; 
Or as a little dog will lead the blind, 

Or a bell-wether form the flock's connection, 
By tinkling sounds, when they go forth to victual;— 
Such is the sway of your Great Men o'er little. 


Cf)e Jl^ttU — Byron. 
They crouch'd to him, for he had Skill 
To warp and wield the vulgar will. 

Cje fyttO. — Byron. 
THAT Man of loneliness and mystery, 

Scarce seen to smile, and seldom heard to sigh; 
Whose name appals the fiercest of his crew, 
And tints each swarthy cheek with sallower hue ; 
Still sways their Souls with that commanding art 
That dazzles, leads, yet chills the vulgar heart. 
What is that Spell, that thus his lawless train 
Confess and envy, yet oppose in vain ? 
What should it be that thus their faith can bind ? 
The power of Thought — the magic of the Mind ! 
Link'd with success, assumed and kept with skill, 
That moulds another's weakness to its will; 
Wields with their hands, but, still to these unknown, 
Makes even their mightiest deeds appear his own. 
Such hath it been — shall be — beneath the sun 
The many still must labour for the one ! 
'Tis Nature's doom — but let the wretch who toils 
Accuse not, hate not him who wears the spoils ; 
Oh ! if he knew the Weight of splendid chains, 
How light the Balance of his humbler pains ! 

JL^tOtSm"* — Shakspeare. 
1" HAVE, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, 

Labouring for destiny, make cruel way 
Through ranks of G-reekish youth : and I have seen thee, 
As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, 
Despising many forfeits and subduements, 
When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' the air, 
Nor letting it decline on the declined ; 
That I have said to some my standers-by, 
Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life ! 
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath, 
When that a ring of Grreeks have hemm'd thee in, 
Like an Olympian wrestling. 

Jgerotsm,— Coiton. 

"y\TE cannot think too highly of our Nature, nor too humbly of 
ourselves. When we see the Martyr to Virtue ; subject as he 
is to the infirmities of a man, yet suffering the tortures of a demon, 
and bearing them with the magnanimity of a God, do we not be- 
hold a Heroism that angels may indeed surpass, but which they 
cannot imitate, and must admire. 


PetSOttal 2£>tSt0rp* — La Bruyere. 

A N old Courtier, with veracity, good sense, and a faithful me- 
mory, is an inestimable treasure : he is full of transactions and 
maxims ; in him one may find the History of the Age, enriched 
with a great many curious circumstances, which we never meet 
with in books. 

&0e Of ffitStOrg. — Tacitus. 
THIS I hold to be the chief office of History, to rescue virtuous 
actions from the oblivion to which a want of Records would 
consign them, and that men should feel a dread of being considered 
infamous in the opinions of Posterity, from their depraved expres- 
sions and base actions. 

JftollOtoneSS. — ShaJcspeare. 
THERE are no tricks in plain and simple Faith : 

But hollow men, like Horses hot at hand, 
Make gallant show and promise of their mettle : 
But when they should endure the bloody spur, 
They fall their crests, and, like deceitful Jades, 
Sink in the Trial. 

Jft0l|> &&lat, — ShaJcspeare. 
THEN if you fight against God's enemy, 

God will in justice ward you as his soldiers. 
If you do swear to put a Tyrant down, 
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain. 
If you do fight against your Country's foes, 
Your Country's Fat shall pay your pains the Hire. 
If you do fight in safeguard of your Wives, 
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors. 
If you do free your Children from the sword, 
Your children's children quit it in your Age. 

tyome.— Burns. 
AT length his lonely Cot appears in view, 

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; 
Th' expectant wee things, todlin, stacher through 
To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise and glee. 
His wee-bit ingle blinkin bonnilie, 

His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty Wine's smile, 
The lisping infant prattling on his knee, 

Does a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile, 
And makes him quite forget his labour and his toil. 

$$OVM. — Shenstone. 

THE proper means of increasing the love we bear our Native 
Country, is to reside some time in a foreign one. 



Jgome.— Byron. 

pTE enter'd in his house — his Home no more, 

For without Hearts there is no Home ; — and felt 
The solitude of passing his own door 
Without a Welcome. 

JgOm*, — Moore. 

C\ Nature ! though blessed and bright are thy rajs, 
O'er the brow of Creation enchantingly thrown, 
Yet faint are they all to the lustre, that plays 

In a smile from the Heart that is dearly our own ! 

JtJOme.— Goldsmith. 
TN all my wanderings round this world of care, 

In all my Griefs — and God has given my share — 
I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, 
Amidst these humble Bowers to lay me down ; 
To husband out life's taper at the close, 
And keep the flame from wasting, by repose : 
I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, 
Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'd skill, 
Around my fire an evening group to draw, 
And tell of all I felt, and all I saw ; 
And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, 
Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, 
I still had hopes, my long vexations past, 
Here to return — and die at Home at last. 

p^Clttte. — Hannah More. 
HPHE angry word suppress'd, the taunting thought; 

Subduing and subdued, the petty strife, 
Which clouds the colour of domestic Life ; 
The sober comfort, all the peace which springs 
From the large aggregate of little things ) 
On these small cares of daughter, wife, or friend, 
The almost sacred joys of Home depend. 

Jl^Ome.— Mrs. Opie. 
TTENCE far from me, ye senseless joys, 

That fade before ye reach the Heart, — 
The crowded dome's distracted noise, 

Where all is pomp and useless art ! 
Give me my Home, to quiet dear, 

Where hours untold and peaceful move; 
So fate ordain I sometimes there 
May hear the Voice of him I love. 




gO«te . — Thomson. 

'THE touch of kindred too and love he feels; 
The modest eye, whose beams on his alone 
Ecstatic shine : the little strong embrace 
Of prattling children, twined around his neck, 
And emulous to please him, calling forth 
The fond paternal soul. Nor purpose gay, 
Amusement, dance, or song, he sternly scorns; 
For Happiness and true Philosophy 
Are of the social, still, and smiling kind. 
This is the Life which those who fret in guilt, 
And guilty cities, never know ; the life, 
Led by primeval ages, uncorrupt, 
When angels dwelt, and God himself, with man ! 

JgOtne. — Young. 
The first sure symptom of a mind in Health, 
Is rest of heart, and pleasure felt at Home. 

J^OmC — Southey. 

"pAREWELL my Home, my Home no longer now, 
Witness of many a calm and happy day; 

And thou, fair eminence, upon whose brow 
Dwells the last sunshine of the evening ray. 

Farewell ! Mine eyes no longer shall pursue 
The westering sun beyond the utmost height, 
When slowly he forsakes the fields of light. 

No more the freshness of the falling dew, 

Cool and delightful here shall bathe my head, 
As from this western window dear, I lean 
Listening the while I watch the placid scene, — 

The martins twittering underneath the shed. 

Farewell my Home, where many a day has past 

In joys whose loved Remembrance long shall last. 

^OUeStn. _ SAakspeare. 
THHERE is no terror in your threats; 

For I am arm'd so strong in Honesty, 
That they pa^s by me as the idle wind, 
Which I respect not. 

itt>OlteSt|). — Howe. 
The brave do never shun the Light; 
Just are their thoughts, and open are their tempers; 
Freely without Disguise they love or hate : 
Still are they found in the fair face of day, 
And Heaven and Men are Judges of their actions. 



J&mejstg. — coiton. 

"V'OTHING more completely baffles one who is full of trick and 
Duplicity himself, than straightforward and simple Integrity 
in another. A knave would rather quarrel with a brother-knave, 
than with a Fool, but he would rather avoid a quarrel with one 
Honest Man, than with both. He can combat a Fool by manage- 
ment and address, and he can conquer a Knave by temptations. 
But the Honest Man is neither to be bamboozled nor bribed. 

J^OtteStg. — Cowley. 
'THE best kind of Glory is that which is reflected from Honesty, 
such as was the glory of Cato and Aristides; but it was harmful 
to them both, and is seldom beneficial to any man while he lives. 

J^OtteStg. — Socrates. 
'THE shortest and surest way to live with Honour in the world, 
is to be in reality what we would appear to be ; and if we ob- 
serve, we shall find, that all human Virtues increase and strengthen 
themselves by the practice and Experience of them. 

ffiOtteStg. — Shakspeare. 
T^HILE others fish with craft for great opinion, 

I with great Truth catch mere Simplicity ; 
Whilst some with Cunning gild their copper crowns, 
With Truth and Plainness I do wear mine bare. 
Fear not my Truth ; the moral of my Wit 
Is — plain, and true, — there's all the reach of it. 

J^OneStg, — Cicero. 
XTTHAT is becoming is Honest, and whatever is Honest must 
always be becoming. 

J^OneStg. — SJiakspeare. 
T>ECAUSE I cannot flatter, and speak fair, 

Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, 
Duck with French nods and apish Courtesy, 
I must be held a rancorous enemy. 
Cannot a plain man live, and think no Harm, 
But thus his simple Truth must be abused 
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks ? 

J^OtteStg* — Shakspeare. 
An Honest Man is able to speak for himself, when a Knave is not. 

?^0nCStJ>. — Montaigne. 
A LL other Knowledge is hurtful to him who has not Honesty 
and good-nature. 

JjgOneStg. — Shakspeare. 
nPO be Honest, as this World goes, is to be one man picked cut 
of ten thousand. 


pjSOtteStfg. — Lamier. 
TTE who freely praises what he means to purchase, and he who 
enumerates the Faults of what he means to sell, may set up a 
partnership with Honesty. 

JftOtteStp. — Shakspeare. 
TTIS nature is too noble for the World : 

He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, 
Or Jove for his power to thunder. His Heart's his mouth : 
What his Breast forges, that his tongue must vent; 
And being angry, does forget that ever 
He heard the name of Death. 

iftonCStJ). — Shakspeare. 

Never any thing can be amiss, 
When Simpleness and Duty tender it. 

J^CmeStp. — Colton. 
TT is much easier to ruin a man of principle, than a man of none, 
for he may be ruined through his Scruples. Knavery is supple, 
and can bend, but Honesty is firm and upright, and yields not. 

?i)0neStg. — Shaftesbury. 

A RIGHT mind and generous affection hath more Beauty and 

charms than all other symmetries in the world besides; and a 

grain of Honesty and native Worth is of more value than all the 

adventitious ornaments, estates, or preferments; for the sake of 

which some of the better sort so oft turn Knaves. 

J6<mWt2|. — Shenstone. 
TT should seem that Indolence itself would incline a person to be 
Honest, as it requires infinitely greater pains and contrivance to 
be a Knave. 

$O1tt0tg FranHin. 

T ET Honesty be as the breath of thy soul, and never forget to 
have a penny, when all thy expenses are enumerated and paid : 
then shalt thou reach the point of Happiness, and independence 
shall be thy shield and buckler, thy helmet and crown; then shall 
thy Soul walk upright, nor stoop to the silken wretch because he 
hath riches, nor pocket an Abuse because the hand which offers it 
wears a ring set with Diamonds. 

J^OnOUr. — Dry den. 

Woman's Honour, 
Is nice as Ermine, will not bear a soil. 

J^OnOUX— Shakspeare. 
Mine Honour is my Life; both grow in one ; 
Take Honour from me, and my Life is done, 
o 2 


honour. — Byron. 

Where is Honour, 
Innate and precept-strengthen'd, 'tis the rock 
Of Faith connubial : where it is not — where 
Light thoughts are lurking, or the vanities 
Of worldly pleasure rankle in the heart, 
Or sensual throbs convulse it, well I know 
; Twere hopeless for Humanity to dream 
Of Honesty in such infected blood, 
Although 'twere wed to him it covets most. 

JgOnOUX — Shakspeare. 
~RY Jove I am not covetous of Gold, 

Nor care I, who doth feed upon my cost; 
It yearns me not if men my garments wear; 
Such outward things dwell not in my desires: 
But, if it be a sin to covet Honour, 
I am the most offending soul alive. 

Concur.— Coiton. 

TTONOUR is unstable, and seldom the same; for she feeds upon 
Opinion, and is as fickle as her food. She builds a lofty struc- 
ture on the sandy foundation of the esteem of those who are of all 
beings the most subject to change. But Virtue is uniform and 
fixed, because she looks for approbation only from Him who is the 
Banie yesterday, to-day, and for ever. 

JgOltOUt:.— Shakspeare. 
If well-respected Honour bid me on, 
I hold as little counsel with weak fear, 
As you. 

J^MtOUt- — Shakspeare. 

The mere word's a slave, 
Debauch'd on every Tomb; on every grave, 
A lying Trophy ; and as oft is dumb, 
Where dust, and damn'd oblivion, is the Tomb 
Of honour'd bones indeed. 

JgCttrjUr, — Phcedrus. 
'THE Athenians erected a large statue to iEsop, and placed him, 
though a Slave, on a lasting pedestal; to show that the way 
to Honour lies open indifferently to all. 

^OnOUr. — Shakspeare. 

What I did, I did in Honour, 
Led by th' impartial conduct of my soul ; 
And never shall you see, that I will beg 
A ragged and forestall' d remission. 


Ji)OnOttrS.— La Bruyere. 
'THERE is what is called the highway to Posts and Honours, 
and there is a cross and by-way, which is much the shortest. 

J$npe._ YonKnebel. 
TRUE Hope is based on energy of character. A strong mind 
always hopes, and has always cause to hope, because it knows 
the Mutability of human affairs, and how slight a circumstance may 
change the whole course of events. Such a spirit too rests upon 
itself; it is not confined to partial views, or to one particular ob- 
ject. And if at last all should be lost, it has saved itself- — its own 
integrity and worth. Hope awakens Courage, while Despondency 
is the last of all evils ; it is the abandonment of good, — the giving 
up of the battle of life with dead nothingness. He who can im- 
plant Courage in the human soul is the best physician. 

J^Ope. — From the French. 
Hope is the Dream of a waking man. 

J^Ope. — Cowley. 
JJOPE ! Fortune's cheating lottery ! 

Where for one prize a hundred blanks there be; 
Fond archer, Hope ! who takest thy aim so far, 
That still or short or wide thine Arrows are ! 

Ji)0pe. — Spenser. 
Hope in rancke, a handsome mayd, 

Of chearefull looke and lovely to behold ; 
In silken samite she was light arayd, 

And her fayre locks were woven up in Gold. 

She always smyld, and in her hand did hold 
An holy-water sprinckle, dipt in deowe, 

With which she sprinkled Favours manifold 
On whom she list, and did great liking sheowe, 
Great liking unto many, but true love to feowe. 

?!}0pe. — Leighton. 
A LIVING Hope, living in Death itself. The world dares say 
no more for its device than dum spiro spero, (whilst I breathe 
I hope;) but the children of God can add, by virtue of this living 
Hope, dum expiro spero, (whilst I expire I hope.) 

J^OPC. — S. T. Coleridge. 
7N the treatment of nervous cases, he is the best Physician who 
is the most ingenious inspirer of Hope. 

?^0pe, — Hume. 
J^ PROPENSITY to Hope and Joy is real riches ; one to Fear 
and Sorrow, real poverty. 


Ji)0pe.— Collins. 
T)UT thou, Hope, with eyes so fair, 
What was thy delighted measure ? 
Still it whisper'd promised pleasure, 

And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! 
Still would her touch the strain prolong, 

And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, 
She call'd on Echo still through all her song; 

And where her sweetest theme she chose, 
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, 

And Hope enchanted smiled, aud waved her golden hair. 

$Jfjpe. — Prior. 
HPHUS, through what path soe'er of life we rove, 

Rage companies our hate, and Grief our love. 
Vex'd with the present moment's heavy gloom, 
Why seek we brightness from the years to come ? 
Disturb'd and broken like a sick man's sleep, 
Our troubled thoughts to distant prospects leap, 
Desirous still what flies us to o'ertake, 
For Hope is but the dream of those that wake. 

JltOpe. — Shakspeare. 

Hope is a lover's Staff; walk hence with that, 
And manage it against despairing Thoughts. 

itt?0pe. — Campbell. 
^USPICIOUS Hope ! in thy sweet garden grow 
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every wo : 
Won by their sweets, in Nature's languid hour, 
The way-worn Pilgrim seeks thy summer bower; 
There, as the wild bee murmurs on the wing, 
What peaceful dreams thy handmaid spirits bring ! 
What viewless forms th' iEolian organ play, 
And sweep the furrow'd lines of anxious Thought away ! 

Ji)fjpe. — Shakspeare. 
The Miserable hath no other Medicine, 
But only Hope. 

J^OP Z.— Byron. 
\^/ r HITE as a white sail on a dusky sea, 

When half the Horizon's clouded and half free, 
Fluttering between the dun wave and the sky, 
Is Hope's last gleam in man's extremity. 

J^fjpe. — ShaTcspeare. 
True Hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, 
Kings it makes Gods, and meaner creatures Kings. 


ftftyt. — Skakspeare. 

The ample proposition; that Hope makes 
In all designs begun on earth below, 
Fails in the promised largeness. 

Jgope. — Pope. 
TTOPE humbly then; with trembling pinions soar, 
Wait the great teacher, Death, and G-od adore : 
What future bliss, He gives not thee to know, 
But gives that Hope to be thy blessing now. 
Hope springs eternal in the human breast: 
Man never Is, but always To be blest ; 
The soul, uneasy, and confined from Home, 
Rests and expatiates in a life to come. 

Jgope. — Proctor. 

What's i' the air? — 
Some subtle spirit runs through all my veins. 
Hope seems to ride this morning on the Wind, 
And Joy outshines the sun. 

^Ope.— Young. 
TTOPE, of all passions, most befriends us here; 

Passions of prouder name befriend us less. 
Joy has her tears; and transport has her Death : 
Hope, like a cordial, innocent though strong, 
Man's heart at once inspirits, and serenes ; 
Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys; 
'Tis all our present state can safely bear, 
Health to the frame, and vigour to the mind ! 
A joy attemper'd ! a chasti.-ed delight ! 
Like the fair summer evening, mild and sweet ! 
'Tis man's full cup : his Paradise below ! 

Ji^Ope. — ShaJcspeare. 
TTE hath persecuted Time with Hope ; and finds no other advan- 
tage in the process but only the losing of Hope by Time. 

JE)OP0. — Shahspeare. 
Even through the hollow eyes of Death, 
I spy life peering ; but I dare not say 
How near the tidings of our Comfort is. 

Jftrjpe. — Cowley. 
Hope ! of all ills that men endure, 
The only cheap and universal cure ! 
Thou captive's Freedom, and thou sick man's Health ! 
Thou lover's Victory, and thou beggar's Wealth ! 


tyOVt. — Coirtei/. 
Brother of Fear, more gayly clad ! 
The merrier fool o' th' two, yet quite as mad : 
Sire of Kepentance ! child of fond Desire ! 
That blow'st the chymics' and the lovers' fire. 
Leading them still insensibly on 
By the strange witchcraft of "anon V 
By thee the one does changing Nature, through 

Her endlest labyrinths, pursue ; 
And th' other chases Woman, while she goes 
More ways and turns than hunted Nature knows. 

i^Ope. — Moore. 
TTER precious pearl, in Sorrow's cup, 

Unmelted at the bottom lay, 
To shine again, when, all drunk up, 
The bitterness should pass away. 

JgOSpttalttg. — Goldsmith. 
T5LEST be that Spot, where cheerful Guests retire 
To pause from Toil, and trim their evening fire j 
Blest that Abode, where want and pain repair, 
And every Stranger finds a ready chair : 
Blest be those Feasts with simple plenty crown'd, 
Where all the ruddy family around 
Laugh at the jest or prank^ that never fail, 
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale, 
Or press the bashful Stranger to his food, 
And learn the luxury of doing Good. 

fgUtnatt jjiaturc — . Shakspeare. 
ITATH not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimension, 
senses, affections, passions ? fed with the same Food, hurt with 
the same Weapons, subject to the same Diseases, healed by the 
same means, warmed and cooled by the same Winter and Summer, 
as a Christian is? if you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you tickle 
us, do we not laugh ? if you poison us, do we not die ? 

Jguman ifiaturc— Anon. 

TT is only when blinded by Self-love, that we can think proudly 
of our Nature. Take away that blind; and in our judgments 
of others we are quicksighted enough to see there is very little in 
that Nature to rely on. 

J&Utnan i&atUtC. — From the Latin. 
To escape Hatred is to gain a Triumph. 


Jiniman ^erfecttutlttp. — Anon. 

^HE strange inconsistency is, that, the very persons who have 
indulged in the most splendid visions about the Perfectibility 
of Mankind, have mostly rejected the only principle of Perfectibility 
which has ever found place in man, the only principle by which man's 
natural corruptibility has ever been checked, the only principle by 
which nations or individuals have ever been regenerated. The 
natural Life of Nations, as well as of individuals, has its fixed course 
and term. It springs forth, grows up, reaches its maturity, decays, 
perishes. Only through Christianity has a nation ever risen again : 
and it is solely on the operation of Christianity that we can ground 
any thing like a reasonable hope of the Perfectibility of Mankind; 
a hope that what has often been wrought in individuals, may also 
in the fulness of time be wrought by the same power in the Race. 

Jguman |letftctflbtltti>.— Awm. 

TT may be regarded as one of those instances of irony so frequent 
in History, that the moment chosen by Man to assert his Per- 
fectibility should have been the very moment when all the powers 
of Evil were about to be let loose, and to run riot over the Earth. 
Happiness was the idol ; and lo ! the idol burst ; and the spectral 
form of Misery rose out of it, and stretched out its gaunt hand 
over the heads of the Nations; and millions of hearts shrank and 
were frozen by its touch. Liberty was the watchword, Liberty 
and Equality : and an iron despotism strode from north to south, 
and from east to west; and all men cowered at its approach, and 
crouched beneath its feet, and were trampled on, and found the 
Equality they coveted in universal Prostration. Peace was the 
promise; and the fulfilment was more than twenty years of fierce, 
desolating War. 

Jijuman progress. — Coiton. 

A NALOGY, although it is not infallible, is yet that telescope of 
the mind by which it is marvellously assisted in the discovery 
of both physical and moral Truth. Analogy has much in store 
fur Men ; but Babes require milk, and there may be intellectual 
food which the present state of society is not fit to partake of; to 
lay such before it, would be as absurd as to give a quadrant to 
an Indian, or a loom to a Hottentot. 

Jftumamtg. — From the French. 
JpEW men are raised in our estimation by being too closely ex- 

Jtyumanttg. — Steele. 
A WEALTHY Doctor who can help a poor man, and will not 
without a fee, has less sense of Humanity than a poor Ruffian, 
who kills a rich man to supply his necessities. 


Jftumtlttj?. — St. Augustin. 
r rHE sufficiency of my Merit is to know that my Merit is not 

Ji^Umtlttg. —Fuller. 
Search others for their Virtues, and thyself for thy Vices. 

Jfrintttlttg. — Moore. 
Humility, that low, sweet root 
From which all heavenly Virtues shoot. 

JgUtmlttl?. — Shakspeare. 
JJE that commends me to my own Content, 
Commends me to the thing I cannot get. 
I to the world am like a drop of water, 
That in the Ocean seeks another drop ; 
Who failing there to find his fellow forth, 
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself. 

Jgttmtittg. — Selden. 
JJUMILITY is a virtue all preach, none practise, and yet every 
body is content to hear. The Master thinks it good doctrine 
for his Servant, the Laity for the Clergy, and the Clergy for the 

JgUttUlttj). — Shakspeare. 
Often to our comfort, shall we find 
The sharded Beetle in a safer hold 
Than is the full-wing'd Eagle. 

J^UmOUr. — Anon. 
I ET your Humour always be G-ood Humour, in both senses. 
If it comes of a Bad Humour, it is pretty sure not to belie its 

J^UtltOUC. — La Rochefoucauld. 
There are more faults in the Humour than in the Mind. 

J^UttlOU?* — La Rochefoucauld. 
'THE Humours of the body have a stated and regular course, 
which impels and imperceptibly guides our Will. They co- 
operate with each other, and exercise successively a secret Empire 
within us ; so that they have a considerable part in all our Actions 
without our being able to know it. 

<^00t> JgumOUr. — Sterne. 
I LIVE in a constant endeavour to fence against the infirmities 
of ill-health, and other evils of Life, by Mirth. I am persuaded 
that every time a man smiles — but much more so when he laughs 
— it adds something to this Fragment of life. 


J^UtttOUt. — La Rochefoucauld. 
TT may be said of men's Humours as of many buildings, that 
they have divers Aspects, — some agreeable, others disagreeable. 

(gOOt! JglWIOUt. — Steele. 
T'HE portable quality of Good Humour seasons all the parts and 
occurrences we meet with, in such a manner that there are no 
moments lost : but they all pass with so much Satisfaction, that 
the heaviest of loads, (when it is a load,) that of Time, is never 
felt by us. 

<&00fc tyUXtWUT.— Johnson. 
f^AYETY is to G-ood Humour as animal perfumes to vegetable 
fragrance. The one overpowers weak spirits, the other recre- 
ates and revives them. Gayety seldom fails to give some pain ; 
Good Humour boasts no faculties which every one does not believe 
in his own Power, and pleases principally by not offending. 

^linger. — Byron. 
That famish'd people must be slowly nurst, 
And fed by Spoonfuls, else they always burst. 

tyunQtt. — Pershis. 
T'HE Belly is a master of arts and a bestower of Genius. Neces- 
sity often draws forth Talent which had before lain dormant, 
and unknown even to its possessor. 

Jfturrp. — Cotton. 

MO two things differ more than Hurry and Despatch. Hurry is 
the mark of a weak mind, Despatch of a strong one. A weak 
man in office, like a squirrel in a cage, is labouring eternally, but 
to no purpose, and in constant motion without getting on a jot; 
like a Turnstile, he is iu everybody's way, but stops nobody; he 
talks a great deal, but says very little ; looks into every thing, but 
sees into nothing ; and has a hundred Irons in the fire, but very 
few of them are hot, and with those few that are he only burns his 

Cl)e ffippocSontinaC — Seneca. 
save, ye Gods omnipotent and kind, 
From such abhorr'd Chimeras save the mind ! 

QlVWCWV.— Fuller. 
Trust not in him that seems a Saint. 

?^5P0CCtJ3p. — ShaJcspeare. 
PTAST thou that holy feeling in thy Soul, 

To counsel me to make my peace with God, 
And art thou yet to thy own Soul so bljnd, 
That thou wilt war with God ? 


S^pOCrtSp. — Young. 
The world's all Title-page : there's no Contents ; 
The world's all Face; the man who shows his Heart 
Is whooted for his nudities, and scorn'd. 

i^PpOCrisp. — Lavater. 
"pVERY thing may be mimicked by Hypocrisy, but Humility and 
Love united. The more rare the more radiant when they meet. 

JftgpOCriSg. — Shakspeare. 
AH ! cunning enemy, that, to catch a Saint, 

With Saints dost bait thy hook ! Most dangerous 
Is that Temptation, that doth goad us on 
To sin in loving Virtue. 

JggpOCrtSp. — Cotton. 
TF the Devil ever laughs, it must be at Hypocrites : they are the 
greatest dupes he has ; they serve him better than any others, 
and receive no wages; nay, what is still more extraordinary, they 
submit to greater Mortifications to go to Hell, than the sincerest 
Christian to go to Heaven. 

fepOCriSg. — Milton. 
JYPOCRISY, the only evil that walks 
Invisible, except to Glod alone, 
By his permissive will, through Heaven and Earth, 
And oft though Wisdom wakes, Suspicion sleeps 
At Wisdom's gate, and to Simplicity 
Resigns her charge, while Goodness thinks no ill 
Where no ill seems. 

JftgpOCrtSJ). — Cotton. 
'THERE is only one circumstance in which the upright man will 
imitate the Hypocrite : I mean in his attempts to conciliate 
the good opinion of his fellow-men. But here the similarity must 
cease, for their respective motives are wider than the poles asunder; 
the former will attempt this to increase his power of doing good, 
the latter to augment his means of doing harm. 

JggpOCriSg. — Shakspeare. 

To beguile the Time, 
Look like the Time ; bear welcome in your eyes, 
Your hand, your tongue : look like the innocent flower; 
But be the Serpent under it. 

J^gpOCriSg.— Addison. 
'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts, 
Or carry Smiles and Sunshine in my face, 
When Discontent sits heavy at my heart. 


J^gpOCnSg. — Spenser. 
THERETO when needed, she could weep and pray, 
And when her listed she could fawne and flatter; 
Now smyling smoothly, like to Sommer's day, 
Now glooming sadly, so to cloke her matter : 
Yet were her Words but wynd, and all her Tears but water. 

JglJpOCriSp. — Peier Pindar. 
HTO wear long faces, just as if our Maker, 

The God of Goodness, was an undertaker, 
"Well pleased to wrap the Soul's unlucky mien 
In sorrow's dismal crape or bombasin. 

J^PPOCrigp. — Shakspeare. 
THE Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. 

An evil soul, producing holy witness, 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; 
A goodly Apple rotten at the Heart : 
Oh, what a goodly outside Falsehood hath ! 

JftPPOCrisp. —Joanna Baillie. 
THINK'ST thou there are no Serpents in the world 

But those who slide along the grassy sod, 
And sting the luckless foot that presses them ? 
There are who in the path of social life 
Do bask their spotted skins in Fortune's sun, 
And sting the Soul — Ay, till its healthful frame 
Is changed to secret, festering, sore Disease, 
So deadly is the Wound. 

JfiPPOCrtSJ). — Shakspeare. 
"DUT then I sigh, and, with a piece of Scripture, 
Tell them — that God bids us do good for evil : 
And thus I clothe my naked villany 
With old odd ends, stolen forth of Holy Writ ; 
And seem a Saint, when most I play the Devil. 
Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile : 
And cry, Content, to that which grieves my heart; 
And wet my cheeks with artificial Tears, 
And frame my Face to all occasions. 

J^gpOCriS}). — Shakspeare. 
T)E not you spoke with, but by mighty suit : 

And look you get a Prayer-Book in your hand, 
And stand between two churchmen, good my Lord; 
For on that ground I'll make a holy descant : 
And be not easily won to our Bequests ; 
Play the maid's part, — still answer Nay, and take it. 


i^PPOCttSp. — ShaJcspeare. 
Q NATURE ! what hadst thou to do in Hell, 

When thou did'st bower the spirit of a Fiend 
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ? — 
Was ever Book, containing such vile matter, 
So fairly bound ? Oh, that Deceit should dwell 
In such a gorgeous palace ! 
serpent heart ! hid with a flowering face ! 
Did ever Dragon keep so fair a cave? 
Beautiful tyrant ! Fiend angelical ! 
Dove-feather' d raven ! Wolvish-ravening lamb ! 
Despised substance of divinest show ! 
Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st ! 

H£>P0Crt!5g. — Milton. 
UNDER fair pretence of friendly ends, 
' And well-placed words of glossy Courtesy, 
Baited with reason not unplausible, 
Wind me into the easy-hearted man, 
And hug him into Snares. 

J^|)pOCrt!Sg. — ShaJcspeare. 
He was a Man 
Of an unbounded Stomach, ever ranking 
Himself with Princes ; one that, by Suggestion, 
Tied all the Kingdom : Simony was fair Play ; 
His own Opinion was his Law : F the Presence, 
He would say Untruths ; and be ever double, 
Both in his Words and Meaning. He was never, 
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful ; 
His Promises were, as he then was, mighty; 
But his Performance, as he is now, nothing. 

JtoPOCnSjf). — ShaJcspeare. 

To the common people, 
How did he seem to dive into their hearts 
With humble and familiar Courtesy; 
What reverence he did throw away on slaves; 
Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of Smiles, 
And patient under-bearing of his fortune, 
As 'twere to banish their Affects with him. 
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench ; 
A brace of dray-men bid, God speed him well ! 
And had the tribute of his supple Knee ; 
W r ith, — Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends. 


S^gpOCriSJ}. — Shakspeare. 
THOUGH I do hate him as I do Hell pains, 

Yet, for necessity of present lift, 
I must show out a flag and sign of Love, 
Which is indeed but Sign. 

(Due Stoea.— Swift. 

f^OMMON speakers have only one set of Ideas, and one set of 
words to clothe them in ; and these are always ready at the 
Mouth : so people come faster out of a Church when it is almost 
empty, than when a crowd is at the Door. 

(Dne Biea. — Swift. 

THERE is a Brain that will endure but one scumming : let the 
owner gather it with Discretion, and manage his little stock 
with Husbandry ; but of all things let him beware of bringing it 
under the lash of his betters. 

(But Etiea, — Shakspeare. 
TTE doth nothing but talk of his Horse ; and he makes it a great 
appropriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe him 

£tl If nC8$. — Cowper. 
Absence of Occupation is not rest, 
A mind quite vacant is a mind distress'd. 

Stolen***. — Spenser. 

"PROM worldly Cares himself he did esloyne, 

And greatly shunned manly exercise ; 
From everie worke he chalenged essoyne, 

For Contemplation sake : yet otherwise, 

His life he led in lawlesse riotise, 
By which he grew to grievous malady ; 

For in his lustesse limbs through evil guise, 
A shaking fever raign'd continually : 
Such one was Idlenesse, first of this company. 

EtllenCSS. — Young. 
T EISURE is pain; takes off our chariot wheels; 

How heavily we drag the load of Life ! 
Blest Leisure is our curse ; like that of Cain, 
It makes us wander ; wander earth around 
To fly that tyrant Thought. As Atlas groan'd 
The World beneath, we groan beneath an Hour. 

$t! Itttem— From the Latin. 
J£VIL thoughts intrude in an unemployed Mind, as naturally aa 
Worms are generated in a stagnant pool. 


ifcknCSS.— Burton. 
JDLENESS is the badge of Gentry, the bane of body and mind, 
the nurse of Naughtiness, the step-mother of Discipline, the 
chief author of all Mischief, one of the seven deadly sins, the 
cushioD upon which the Devil chiefly reposes, and a great cause 
not only of Melancholy, but of many other diseases : for the mind 
is naturally active ; and if it be not occupied about some honest 
business, it rushes into Mischief, or sinks into Melancholy. 

ItllenCSS.— Franklin. 
TT would be thought a hard government that should tax its people 
one-tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service; but 
Idleness taxes many of us much more; sloth, by bringing on 
diseases, absolutely shortens life. Sloth, like rust, consumes faster 
than labour wears; while the used key is always bright. Dost 
thou love life, then do not squander time, for that is the stuff" life 
is made of. How much more than is necessary do we spend in 
sleep, forgetting that the sleeping fox catches no poultry, and 
there will be sleeping enough in the grave ! 

Ignorance. — Coiton. 

TT is with Nations as with individuals, those who know the least 
of others think the highest of themselves ; for the whole family 
of Pride and Ignorance are incestuous, and mutually beget each 

Egnotance. — Seneca. 
COME men, like Pictures, are fitter for a Corner than a full 
light. r 

$UnC0£i. — Shakspeare. 
May be he is not well : 
Infirmity doth still neglect all office, 
Whereto our Health is bound ; we're not ourselves, 
When Nature, being oppress' d, commands the Mind 
To suffer with the Body. 

IllneS0. — Colton. 
COME persons will tell you, with an air of the miraculous, that 
they recovered although they were given over; whereas they 
might with more Reason have said, they recovered because they 
were given over. 

IllUStOn. — Shakspeare. 
Some there be, that Shadows kiss ; 
Such have but a shadow's bliss. 


£i)e image Of I)tS jFZttyX. — Shdkspeare. 

Behold, my Lords, 
Although the print be little, the whole matter 
And Copy of the Father : Eye, Nose, Lip, 
The trick of his Frown, his Forehead ; nay, the valley, 
The pretty dimples of his Chin, and Cheek ; his Smiles ! 
The very mould and frame of Hand, Nail, Finger. 

imagination, — Burton. 

A CONTENTED citizen of Milan, who had never passed beyond 
its walls during the course of sixty years, being ordered by the 
Governor not to stir beyond its gates, became immediately mise- 
rable, and felt so powerful an inclination to do that which he had 
so long contentedly neglected, that, on his application for a release 
from this restraint beiDg refused, he became quite melancholy, and 
at last died of Grief. The pains of imprisonment also, like those 
of servitude, are more in conception than in reality. We are all 
prisoners. What is Life, but the prison of the Soul ? 

imagination, — Shakspeare. 

'THE lunatic, the lover, and the poet, 

Are of Imagination all compact : 
One sees more devils than vast Hell can hold ; 
The madman. While the lover, all as frantic, 
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt. 
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 
Doth glance from Heaven to Earth, from Earth to Heaven; 
And as Imagination bodies forth 
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation and a name. 
Such tricks hath strong Imagination, 
That if he would but apprehend some joy, 
It comprehends some bringer of that joy ; 
Or in the night imagining some fear, 
How easy is a Bush supposed a Bear ? 

imagination. — Skdkspeare. 

"T)ANGEROUS Conceits are, in their natures, poisons, 

Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste ; 
But, with a little act upon the Blood, 
Burn like the mines of sulphur. 

imagination. — Rogers. 

F)0 what he will, he cannot realize 

Half he conceives — the glorious Vision flies. 
Go where he may, he cannot hope to find 
The Truth, the Beauty pictured in his mind. 


Imitation.— Coiton. 

Imitation is the sincerest of Flattery. 

Imitation. — Coiton. 

THE secret of some men's Attractions might be safely told to all 
the world, for under any other management but that of the 
possessor, they would cease to attract. Those who attempted to 
imitate them, would find that they had got the Fiddle, but not the 

ImttattOtt. — Shakspeare. 

TT is certain that either wise bearing, or ignorant carriage, is 
caught, as men take Diseases, one of another : therefore, let 
men take heed of their Company. 

Imitation. — Lavater. 
TTE who is always in want of something cannot be very rich. 
'Tis a poor wit who lives by borrowing the Words, decisions, 
mien, inventions, and Actions of others. 

Imitation. — Greviiu. 

T HARDLY know so true a mark of a little Mind, as the servile 
Imitation of others. 

Immortality. — Young, 
Still seems it strange that thou shouldst live for ever ? 
Is it less strange that thou shouldst live at all ? 
This is a Miracle; and that no more. 

ImmortalitP. — Young. 

Can it be ? 

Matter immortal ? and shall Spirit die ? 
Above the nobler, shall less noble rise ? 
Shall Man alone, for whom all else revives, 
No Resurrection know ? shall Man alone, 
Imperial Man ! be sown in barren ground, 
Less privileged than grain, on which he feeds ? 

Impertinence. — Lavater. 
"DECEIVE no satisfaction for premeditated Impertinence; forget 
it, forgive it, but keep him inexorably at a distance who 
offered it. 

Pegging Impostors. — Ben Jonson. 

'THERE is no bounty to be show'd to such 

As have no real Goodness : Bounty is 
A spice of Virtue : and what virtuous act 
Can take effect on them that have no power 
Of equal habitude to apprehend it ? 


Improvement. — Coiton. 

"\TTHERE we cannot invent, we may at least improve ; we may 
give somewhat of Novelty to that which was old, Condensa- 
tion to that which was diffuse, Perspicuity to that which was obscure, 
and Currency to that which was recondite. 

Impulse — Hare. 
CINCE the generality of persons act from Impulse much more 
than from Principle, men are neither so good nor so bad as we 
are apt to think them. 

Impulses. — Cooler. 
A TRUE history of human events would show that a far larger 
proportion of our acts are the results of sudden Impulses and 
accident, than of that reason of which we so much boast. 

InCOTiStStenrj). — Anon. 
A MONG the numberless Contradictions in our nature, hardly any 
is more glaring than this, between our sensitiveness to the 
slightest Disgrace which we fancy cast upon us from without, and 
our callousness to the Filth within ourselves. In truth, they who 
are the most sensitive to the one are often the most callous to the 

Independence. — Smoiktt. 

T'HY spirit, Independence, let me share ! 

Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye, 
Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, 
Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky. 
Deep in the frozen regions of the north, 
A goddess violated brought thee forth, 
Immortal Liberty, whose look sublime, 
Hath bleach'd the Tyrant's cheek in every varying clime. 

Independence. — Erinzelmai*. 

T>E and continue poor, young man, while others around you 
grow rich by fraud and disloyalty ; be without place or Power, 
while others beg their way upward; bear the pain of disappointed 
Hopes, while others gain the accomplishment of theirs by flattery; 
forego the gracious pressure of the hand for which others cringe 
and crawl. Wrap yourself in your own Virtue, and seek a Friend 
and your daily bread. If you have in such a course grown gray 
with unblenched Honour, bless God, and die. 

Independence.— Anon. 

'THE King is the least independent man in his dominions, — the 
Beggar the most so. 


independence. — Cowper. 

T PRAISE you much, ye meek and patient pair 

For ye are worthy j choosing rather for 
A dry but independent Crust, hard-earn' d 
And eaten with a sigh, than to endure 
The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs 
Of Knaves in office. 

3mfitan Character. — Cooper. 

"pEW men exhibit greater diversity, or, if we may so express it, 
greater antithesis of character, than the native warrior of North 
America. In war, he is daring, boastful, cunning, ruthless, self- 
denying, and self-devoted ; in peace, just, generous, hospitable, 
revengeful, superstitious, modest, and commonly chaste. These 
are qualities, it is true, which do not distinguish all alike; but 
they are so far the predominating traits of these remarkable people 
as to be characteristic. 

EntecrettOn. — La Bruyere. 
HPHE generality of men expend the early part of their lives in 
contributing to render the latter part miserable. 

Cf)e MltSCrcet. — Addison. 
A N Indiscreet Man is more hurtful than an ill-natured one ; for 
as the latter will only attack his Enemies, and those he wishes 
ill to; the other injures indifferently both Friends and Foes. 

3mfotbrtJUaltt£. — S. T. Coleridge. 
TN the very lowest link in the vast and mysterious chain of Being, 
there is an effort, although scarcely apparent, at Individualiza- 
tion ; but it is almost lost in the mere Nature. A little higher up, 
the Individual is apparent and separate, but subordinate to any 
thing in Man. At length, the animal rises to be on a par with the 
lowest power of the human nature. There are some of our natural 
desires which only remain in our most perfect state on Earth as 
means of the higher powers acting. 

$ntJUJ3tl*£* — Franklin. 
'THE way to "Wealth is as plain as the way to Market. It 
depends chiefly on two words, Industry and Frugality : that is, 
waste neither Time nor Money, but make the best use of both. 
Without Industry and Frugality nothing will do, and with them 
every thing. 

$ntetr;i). — Franklin. 
CLOTH makes all things difficult, but Industry all easy ; and he 
that riseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his 
business at night : while Laziness travels so slowly, that Poverty 
soon overtakes him. 


$ntiustrg» — Cotton. 

TTE that from small beginnings has deservedly raised himself to 
the highest Stations, may not always find that full satisfaction 
in the possession of his object, that he anticipated in the pursuit of 
it. But although the individual may be disappointed, the Com- 
munity are benefited, first by his exertions, and secondly, by his 
example ; for, it has been well observed, that the Public are served 
not by what the Lord Mayor feels who rides in his coach, but by 
what the Apprentice Boy feels who looks at him. 

\X&V&\XQ. — Franklin. 
TNDUSTRY need not wish, and he that lives upon hopes will die 
fasting. There are no gains without pains; then help, hands, 
for I have no lands; or, if I have, they are smartly taxed. He that 
hath a trade hath an estate, and he that hath a calling, hath an 
office of profit and honour; but then the trade must be worked 
at. and the calling followed, or neither the estate nor the office 
will enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious, we shall 
never starve; for, at the working-man's house hunger looks in, but 
dares not enter. Nor will the bailiff or the constable enter, for 
Industry pays debts, while despair increaseth them. 

Intbxittv. — Prior. 

T DRANK ; I liked it not, 'twas rage, 'twas noise, 

An airy scene of transitory joys. 
In vain I trusted that the flowing bowl 
Would banish Sorrow, and enlarge the Soul. 
To the late revel, and protracted feast, 
Wild Dreams succeeded, and disorder'd rest. 

$neXpertettCC. — Shakspeare. 
THE untainted Virtue of your years 

Hath not yet dived into the World's deceit : 
Nor more can you distinguish of a man 
Than of his outward show, which, G-od he knows, 
Seldom or never jumpeth with the Heart. 

inexperience*— Anon. 

THOUSANDS of the brave, the gifted and the beautiful, have 
waked from dreams of juvenile Idolatry, amid the cold realities 
of every-day life, and loathed the long remnant of a scarce bud- 
ding existence, for the rash vows of its opening dawn. The world 
is peopled with such mourners, and if in time the cloak of Indif- 
ference, or the mantle of Resignation, or the pall of Despair, 
shroud it from the world's unfeeling gaze, the broken heart is not 
the less surely there. 


EnfcrttOtt. — ShaJcspeare. 
How oft the sight of Means to do ill Deeds, 
Makes Deeds ill done ! 

EnftMttp. — ShaJcspeare. 
She's gone ; I am abused ; and my relief 
Must be — to loathe her. 

Eltftfcelttl). — Shdkspeare. 
Such an act, 
That blurs the grace and blush of Modesty : 
Calls Virtue, Hypocrite : takes off the rose 
From the fair forehead of an innocent love, 
And sets a blister there : makes marriage vows 
As false as dicers' oaths ; Oh, such a deed, 
As from the body of Contraction plucks 
The very soul ; and sweet Religion, makes 
A rhapsody of words. 

InffiitUt$.— Moore. 

OH ! colder than the Wind that freezes 
Founts that but now in sunshine play'd, 

Is that congealing Pang which seizes 
The trusting bosom when betray'd. 

JrtfiMttg. — ShaJcspeare. 

Oh, she is fallen 
Into a pit of Ink ! that the wide Sea 
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again ; 
And Salt too little, which may season give 
To her foul tainted flesh ! 

EttfiMttg. — ShaJcspeare. 

thou Weed, 
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet, 
That the sense aches at thee, — Would, thou had'st ne'er 
been born ! 

InfiMttj). — ShaJcspeare. 
HTHIS was your Husband. — Look you now, what follows 

Here is your Husband; like a mildew'd ear, 
Blasting his wholesome Brother. Have you eyes ? 
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, 
And batten on this moor ? Ha ! have you eyes ? 
You cannot call it, Love : for, at your age, 
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, 
And waits upon the Judgment; And what judgment 
Would step from this, to this ? 


Enfr&Clttp. — Shakspeare. 
I should make very forges of my cheeks, 
That would to cinders burn up Modesty, 
Did I but speak thy Deeds. 

i&ofcie intimity.— Young. 

COME, when they die, die all : their mould'ring clay 

Is but an Emblem of their Memories; 
The space quite closes up thro' which they pass'd : 
That I have lived, I leave a mark behind, 
Shall pluck the shining age from vulgar time, 
And give it whole to late Posterity. 

JttgratttUtie. — Shakspeare. 

Then burst his mighty Heart : 
And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 
Even at the base of Pompey's statue, 
Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 

IttgratttUtJe. — Shakspeare. 

She hath tied 
Sharp-tooth'd Unkindness, like a vulture. 

ingtatttUtie. — Shakspeare. 
TNGKATITUDE is monstrous ; and for the Multitude to be in- 
grateful, were to make a Monster of the Multitude. 

ingratitude. — Shakspeare. 
'TIME hath a wallet at his back 

Wherein he puts alms for Oblivion, 
A great-sized monster of Ingratitudes ; - 
Those scraps are good deeds past ; which are devour' d 
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon 
As done. 

ingratitude. — Shakspeare. 
J>LOW, blow, thou Winter Wind, 
Thou art not so unkind 
As man's Ingratitude; 
Thy tooth is not so keen, 
Because thou art not seen, 
Although thy breath be rude. 

ingratitude. — Anon. 

T'HOUGrH Ingratitude is too frequent in the most of those who 
are obliged, yet Encouragement will work on generous minds ; 
and if the experiment be lost on thousands, yet it never fails on 
all; and one virtuous man in a whole nation is worth the buying, 
as one Diamond is worth the search in a heap of rubbish. 



iltgratttUtie. — Shahspeare. 
T HATE Ingratitude more in a man, 

Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, 
Or any taint of Vice, whose strong corruption 
Inhabits our frail Blood. 

ingratitude.— ButUr. 

r rHAT he alone is ungrateful, who makes returns of Obligations, 
because he does it merely to free himself from owing so much 
as Thanks. 

ingratitude. — From the Italian. 
THE animal with long ears, after having drunk, gives a kick to 
the bucket. 

ingratttutre. — Ausonius. 

"^OTHING more detestable does the Earth produce than an Un- 
grateful Man. 

ingratitude. —La Rochefoucauld. 
\\TE seldom find people ungrateful as long as we are in a condition 
to render them Services. 

ingratitude. — Shahspeare. 

'Tis a common proof, 
That lowliness is young Ambition's ladder, 
Whereto the climber upward turns his face ; 
But when he once attains the upmost round, 
He then unto the Ladder turns his back, 
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees 
By which he did ascend. 

ingratitude. — Shahspeare. 
Ingratitude ! thou marble-hearted Fiend, 
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child, 
Than the Sea Monster. 

ingratitude.— From the Latin. 
TF you say he is Ungrateful, you can impute to him no more de- 
testable act. 

ingratitude. —PuWus Syrius. 

QNE Ungrateful Man does an Injury to all who stand in need of 

injuries.— Diogenes. 
No man is hurt but by himself. 

injuries. — Fuller. 
Slight small Injuries, and they'll become none at all. 



Injuries — Za Rochefoucauld. 

A TEN are not only prone to lose the Remembrance of Benefits 
and of Injuries; they even hate those who have obliged them, 
and cease to hate those who have grievously injured them. The 
constant study to recompense Good and avenge Evil appears to 
them a slavery, to which they feel it difficult to submit. 

Self 'Enjur P. —Johnson. 
A MAN should be careful never to tell tales of himself to his own 
Disadvantage : people may be amused, and laugh at the time, 
but they will be remembered, and brought up against him upon 
some subsequent occasion. 

irctf'lttjurp. — Shakspeare. 
What Things are we ! 
Merely our own Traitors. And as in the common course of all 
treasons, we still see them reveal themselves, till they attain to 
their abhorred ends; so he, that contrives against his own Nobility, 
in his proper Stream o'erflows himself. 

Irmor mce. — From (he French. 
Innocence and Mysteriousness never dwell long together. 

imifittntt.— Novate. 

TNNOCENCE and Ignorance are sisters. But there are noble 
and vulgar sisters. Vulgar Innocence and Ignorance are mortal, 
they have pretty faces, but wholly without expression, and of a 
transient Beauty ; the noble sisters are immortal, their lofty forms 
are unchangeable, and their countenances are still radiant with the 
light of Paradise. They dwell in Heaven, and visit only the noblest 
and most severely tried of Mankind. 

Ennomt re. — Horace. 
True, conscious Honour, is to feel no sin ; 
He's arm'd without that's innocent within : 
Be this thy screen, and this thy wall of brass. 

innocence. — Shakspeare. 

Thou shalt not see me blush, 
Nor change my Countenance for this arrest; 
A Heart unspotted is not easily daunted. 
The purest spring is not so free from mud, 
As I am clear from Treason. 

Innocence.— Mnton. 

CO dear to Heaven is saintly Chastity, 

That when a soul is found sincerely so, 
A thousand liveried angels lacquey her, 
Driving far off each thing of Sin and Gruilt. 


innocence. — Shakspeare. 
For unstain'd thoughts do seldom dream on Evil; 
Birds never limed no secret Bushes fear. 

teanttp. — Shakspeare. 
T'HERE is a willow grows ascaunt the brook, 

That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; 
Therewith fantastic Garlands did she make 
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, 
That liberal Shepherds give a grosser name, 
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them : 
There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds 
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ; 
When down her weedy trophies, and herself, 
Fell in the weeping Brook. Her clothes spread wide; 
And, Mermaid-like, a while they bore her up : 
Which time, she chanted snatches of old tunes; 
As one incapable of her own Distress, 
Or like a creature native and indued 
Unto that element: but long it could not be, 
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, 
Pulled the poor Wretch from her melodious lay 
To muddy Death. 

$nsanttj>, — Shakspeare.^ 
Oh, what a noble Mind is here o'erthrown ! 
The Courtier's, Soldier's, Scholar's, eye, tongue, sword 1 
Th' expectaucy and rose of the fair State, 
The glass of fashion, and the mould of form, 
Th' observed of all observers, quite, quite down ! 
I am of ladies most deject and wretched, 
That suck'd the honey of his music vows : 
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, 
Like sweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh; 
That unmatch'd form, and feature of blown youth, 
Blasted with ecstasy. 

Insanity — Shakspeare. 
He was met even now 
As mad as the vex'd Sea: singing aloud ! 
Crown'd with rank fumiter, and furrow weeds, 
With harlocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, 
Darnel, and all the idle weeds, that grow 
In our sustaining Corn. 


SelMnSpcCttOn. — Skakspeare. 
'THY Glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, 

Thy Dial how thy precious minutes waste; 
The vacant Leaves thy mind's imprint will bear, 

And of this Book this learning niay'st thou taste. 
The wrinkles which thy Glass will truly show, 

Of mouthed graves will give thee memory ; 
Thou by thy Dial's shady stealth may'st know 

Time's thievish progress to Eternity. 
Look, what thy memory cannot contain, 

Commit to these waste Blanks, and thou shalt find 
Those children nursed, deliver'd from thy brain, 

To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. 
These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, 
Shall profit thee, and much enrich thy Book. 

$n0pttatt'OtL — SJiakspeare. 
OUR poesy is as a Gum, which oozes 

From whence 'tis nourish'd : The fire i' the flint 
Shows not till it be struck ; our gentle Flame 
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies 
Each bound it chafes. 

JfrtSpttattOn. — Greville. 
A LIVELY and agreeable man has not only the merit of Live- 
liness and Agreeableness himself, but that also of awakening 
them in others. 

IltSUltS. — CoJton. 
TNJURIES accompanied with Insults are never forgiven : all 
men, on these occasions, are good haters, and lay out their Re- 
venge at compound interest. 

intellect. — La Bruyere. 
TT is a proof of Mediocrity of Intellect to be addicted to relating 

Intellect. — Coiton. 

TIMES of general Calamity and Confusion have ever been pro- 
ductive of the greatest Minds. The purest ore is produced 
from the hottest Furnace, and the brightest thunderbolt is elicited 
from the darkest Storm. 

3fcalOU0£. — Byron. 
ITER maids were old, and if she took a new one, 
You might be sure she was a perfect fright : 
She did this during even her Husband's life — 
I recommend as much to every Wife. 


SJcalOUSg. —Hannah More. 

Tliou ugliest Fiend of Hell ! thy deadly venom 
Preys on my vitals, turns the healthful hue 
Of my fresh cheek to haggard sallowness, 
And drinks my Spirit up ! 

gf ealOUSp. — Shakspeare. 
Oh, beware of Jealousy; 
It is the green-eyed Monster, which doth mock 
The meat it feeds on. 

gfcalOUgg. — Shakspeare. 
T'HESE are the forgeries of Jealousy : 

And never, since the middle summer's spring, 
Met we on hill, in dales, forest, or mead, 
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook, 
Or on the beached margent of the Sea, 
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, 
But with thy Brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. 

gealOUSg, — Mrs. Tighe. 
'THAT anxious torture may I never feel, 

Which doubtful, watches o'er a wandering heart. 
Oh ! who that bitter Torment can reveal, 

Or tell the pining anguish of that Smart ! 

In those affections may I ne'er have part, 
Which easily transferr'd can learn to rove : 

No, dearest Cupid ! when I feel thy dart, 
For thy sweet Psyche's sake may no false Love, 
The tenderness I prize lightly from me remove ! 

%j ealOUSg. — Shakspeare. 
Oh, how hast thou with Jealousy infected 
The Sweetness of affiance ! 

3JealOU0g. — Thomson. 

But through the heart 
Should Jealousy its venom once diffuse, 
'Tis then delightful Misery no more, 
But Agony unniix'd, incessant gall, 
Corroding every thought, and blasting all 
Love's Paradise. Ye fairy prospects then, 
Ye beds of roses, and ye bowers of joy, 
Farewell ! ye gleamings of departed peace, 
Shine out your last ! the yellow tinging Plague 
Internal vision taints, and in a night 
Of vivid gloom Imagination wraps. 


glealOUSJ). — Shakspeare. 

I never gave him cause. 
But jealous souls will not be answer'd so; 
They are not ever jealous for the Cause, 
But jealous, for they are jealous : 'tis a Monster, 
Begot upon itself, born on itself. 

0ealOUS J). — Spenser. 

~^E ever is he wont on ought to feed 

But todes and frogs (his pasture poysonous) 
Which in his cold Complexion doe breed 

A filthy blood, or humor rancorous, 

Matter of Doubt and dread suspitious, 
That doth with cureless care consume the Hart, 

Corrupts the stomacke with gall vitious, 
Cross-cuts the liver with eternall Smart, 
And doth transfixe the soule with Death's eternall dart. 

ScaiCUS}?. — Shakspeare. 
Trifles, light as air, 
Are, to the Jealous, Confirmations strong 
As proofs of Holy Writ. 

3kalOUSp. — Tacitus. 
TTE who is next heir to supreme Power, is always suspected and 
hated by him who actually wields it. 

gJealOU0g. — Spenser. 

VET is there one more cursed than they all, 

That Canker-worm, that Monster, Jealousie, 
Which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, 

Turning all Love's delight to misery, 

Through fear of losing his felicity. 
Ah, Gods ! that ever ye that Monster placed 
In gentle love, that all his joys defaced ! 

^eaiOUgn. — Sir Thomas Overbury. 
A jealous Man sleeps dog sleep. 

;?|eal0U!5P. — Spenser. 
"POWLE Jealousie ! that turnest love divine 

To joyless dread, and mak'st the loving Hart 
With hatefull thoughts to languish and to pine, 
And feed itselfe with selfe-consuming Smart : 
Of all the Passions in the mind thou vilest art. 
Cije Sestet.— Horace. 
Yonder he drives — avoid that furious beast : 
If he may have his Jest, he never cares 
At whose expense ; nor Friend nor patron spares. 


%ft8tiVLQ.— Fuller. 
HTAKE heed of Jesting : many have been ruined by it. It's hard 
to Jest, and not sometimes jeer too; which oftentimes sinks 
deeper than was intended, or expected. 

gating. — Sheridan. 

'TO smile at the Jest which plants a Thorn in another's breast, 
is to become a principal in the Mischief. 

^Ofttng. — La Brut/ere. 
JtfEVER risk a Joke, even the least offensive in its nature and 
the most common, with a person who is not well bred, and 
possessed of sense to comprehend it. 

3f0g, — Shakspeare. 
Joy had the like conception in our eyes, 
And, at that instant, like a Babe sprung up. 

3Sf Cg. — Shakspeare. 
HTHE night of Sorrow now is turn'd to day : 

Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth, 
Like the fair Sun, when in his fresh array 
He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth: 
And as the bright Sun glorifies the sky, 
So is her face illumined with her Eye. 

^fOJ). — SJiakspeare. 
You have bereft me of all words, 
Only my Blood speaks to you in my veins ; 
And there is such confusion in my powers, 
As, after some oration fairly spoke 
By a beloved Prince, there doth appear 
Among the buzzing pleased Multitude ; 
Where every something, being blent together, 
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of Joy 
Exprest, and not exprest. 

§0 g. —Dry den. 
My heart's so full of Joy, 
That I shall do some wild extravagance 
Of Love in public ; and the foolish world, 
Which knows not Tenderness, will think me mad. 

^fOJ). — SJiakspeare. 
(^J.IVE me a gash, put me to present Pain ; 

Lest this great sea of Joys rushing upon me, 
O'erbear the shores of my Mortality, 
And drown me with their Sweetness 


^Op. — Shahspeare. 
I HAVE felt so many quirks of Joy, and Grief, 
That the first face of neither, on the start. 
Can woman me unto 't. 

3f0g. — Young. _ 
"MATURE, in zeal for human amity, 

Denies, or damps, an undivided Joy. 
Joy is an import ; Joy is an exchange ; 
Joy flies monopolists : it calls for two ; 
Rich Fruit ! Heaven planted ! never pluek'd by one. 

3Tf)e $Vti%Z.— Peter Pindar. 
"VyHEN Judges a campaigning go, 

And on their benches look so big, 
What gives them consequence, I trow, 
Is nothing but a Bushel Wig. 

gjutigmg (Dtijers. — Greviiie. 

TJE that sees ever so accurately, ever so finely into the motives 
of other people's Acting, may possibly be entirely ignorant as 
to his own : it is by the mental as the corporeal Eye, the object 
may be placed too near the Sight to be seen truly, as well as so 
far off; nay, too near to be seen at all. 

glOigmcnt. — Shahspeare. 

What we oft do best 
By sick Interpreters, once weak ones, is 
Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft, 
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up 
For our best Act. 

glrtigmetTt. — La Rochefoucauld. 
TyE are mistaken in supposing that Intellect and Judgment are 
two different things. Judgment is merely the Greatness of 
the Light of the Mind j this Light penetrates into the recesses of 
things; it observes there every thing remarkable, and perceives 
what appears to be imperceptible. Thus it must be allowed that 
it is the Greatness of the Light of the Mind which produces all 
the effects attributed to Judgment. 

jjjtotopient.— Svoift, 

TNVENTION is the talent of youth, and Judgment of age : so 
that our Judgment grows harder to please, when we have fewer 
things to offer it : this goes through the whole commerce of Life. 
When we are old, our friends find it difficult to please us, and are 
less concerned whether we be pleased or not. 


gjfugtmmtt. — Shakspeare. 

Men's Judgments are 
A parcel of their Fortunes ; and things outward 
Do draw the inward Quality after them, 
To suffer all alike. 

$ UtJgmettt. — Steele. 
'THE most necessary talent in a man of Conversation, which is 
what we ordinarily intend by a Gentleman, is a good Judgment. 
He that has this in perfection is master of his Companion, without 
letting him see it ; and has the same advantage over men of any 
other qualifications whatsoever, as one that can see would have 
over a blind man of ten times his strength. 

gfurtSprutJence. — Webster. 
JUSTICE is the great interest of man on earth. It is the ligament 
which holds civilized beings and civilized nations together. 
Wherever her temple stands, and so long as it is duly honoured, 
there is a foundation for social security, general happiness, and the 
improvement and progress of our race. And whoever labours on 
this edifice with usefulness and distinction, whoever clears its founda- 
tions, strengthens its pillars, adorns its entablatures, or contributes 
to raise its august dome still higher in the skies, connects himself, 
in name, and fame, and character, with that which is and must be 
as durable as the frame of human society. 

gtettCe. — Cotton. 
I~F strict Justice be not the rudder of all our other Virtues, the 
faster we sail, the farther we shall find ourselves from " that 
Haven where we would be." 

^USttCe. — La Rochefoucauld. 
JUSTICE is in general only a lively apprehension of being de- 
prived of what belongs to us ; hence arise our great considera- 
tion and respect for all the interests of our Neighbour, and our 
scrupulous care to avoid doing him an injury. This fear retains 
men within the limits of those advantages which Birth or Fortune 
has given them ; and, without it, they would be making continual 
Inroads upon others. 

gUgttCe* — Cotton. 
/^JARNEADES, whom Cicero so much dreaded, maintained that 
there was no such thing as Justice! and he supported his 
theory by such Sophisms as these : that the condition of men is 
such that if they have a mind to be just, they must act impru- 
dently ; and that if they have a mind to act prudently, they must 
be unjust; and that, it follows, there can be no such thing as 
Justice, because a Virtue inseparable from a Folly cannot be just 


Lactautius is correct when he affirms that the heathens could not 
answer this Sophism, and that Cicero dared not undertake it. The 
error was this, the restricting of the value of Justice to temporal 
things : for to those who disbelieve a future state, or even have 
doubts about it, "Honesty is not always the best policy;" and it 
is reserved for Christians, who take into their consideration the 
whole existence of man, to argue clearly and consequentially on 
the sterling value of Justice. It is well known that Hume him- 
self was never so much puzzled as when peremptorily asked, by a 
lady at Bath, to declare, upon his Honour as a Gentleman, whether 
he would choose his own confidential domestics from such as held 
his own principles, or from those who conscientiously believed the 
eternal truths of Revelation. He frankly decided in favour of the 
latter ! 

gfUSttCe. — Shakspeare. 
Poise the cause in Justice' equal scales, 
Whose Beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. 

gusttce arils Becencg. — Cicero. 

JUSTICE consists in doing no injury to men; Decency, in giv- 
ing them no offence. 

WUrilmtMS. — Shakspeare. 

You are liberal in offers : 
You taught me first to beg; and now, methinks, 
You teach me how a Beggar should be answer'd. 

l&trttmeSS. — Joanna Baillie. 
A willing Heart adds feather to the heel, 
And makes the clown a winged Mercury. 

Cj)e iAt1l0. — Shakspeare. 
There is such divinity doth hedge a King, 
That Treason can but peep to what it would, 
Acts little of his will. 

Cf)e UitlQ. — Shakspeare. 

Majesty ! 
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
Like a rich Armour worn in heat of day, 
That scalds with Safety. 

lAitotoletise of ti)e &2£orttJ. — Coiton. 

j-TE that knows a little of the World, will admire it enough to 
fall down and worship it : but he that knows it most, will 
most despise it. 

Superficial I£notoletJge. — Fuller. 

He that sips of many Arts, drinks of none. 


Spiritual IftNOtoletjge* — Bishop Sprat. 
,r J^IS- the property of all true Knowledge, especially spiritual, to 
enlarge the Soul by filling it j to enlarge it without swelling 
it; to make it more capable, and more earnest to know, the more 
it knows. 

Selfsltnotoletoge. — Coiton. 

]yjAN, if he compare himself with all that he can see, is at the 
Zenith of Power ; but if he compare himself with all that he 
can conceive, he is at the Nadir of Weakness. 

Subtle IftttOtoletJge. —Joanna Baillie. 
Deep subtle wits, 
In truth, are master-spirits in the world. 
The brave man's Courage, and the student's Lore, 
Are but as tools his secret ends to work, 
Who hath the Skill to use them. 

l&notoletrge* — Coiton. 

'JHAT is indeed a twofold Knowledge, which profits alike by the 
Folly of the foolish, and the Wisdom of the wise. It is both a 
shield and a sword ; it borrows its Security from the darkness, and 
its confidence from the light. 

l&ttotolefcge. — Cowper. 

J^NOWLEDGE and Wisdom, far from 'being one, 

Have ofttimes no connexion. Knowledge dwells 
In heads replete with Thoughts of other men, 
Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. 

l&notoletige, — Lavater. 
T'HREE days of uninterrupted Company in a vehicle will make 
you better acquainted with another, than one hour's Conversa- 
tion with him every day for three years. 

iSttOtoU&jje*— Byron. 

Knowledge is not Happiness, and Science 
But an exchange of Ignorance for that 
Which is another kind of Ignorance. 

l&notoletjge. — Coiton. 

TpHE profoundly wise do not declaim against superficial Know- 
ledge in others, so much as the profoundly ignorant ; on the 
contrary, they would rather assist it with their Advice than over- 
whelm it with their Contempt ; for they know that there was a 
period when even a Bacon or a Newton were superficial, and that 
he who has a little Knowledge is far more likely to get more than 
ne that has none. 


Itttotoletige. —Milton. 

Not to know at large of things remote 
From use, obscure and subtle, but to know 
That which before us lies in daily life, 
Is the prime Wisdom ; what is more, is fume, 
Or Emptiness, or fond Impertinence, 
And renders us in things that most concern 
Unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek. 

3£notoIefcge. — Shakspeare. 
"VT EN'S faults do seldom to themselves appear, 

Their own Transgressions partially they smother: 
Oh ! how are they wrapt in with infamies, 
That from their own Misdeeds askance their eyes ! 

l&notolrtrge. — Coiton. 

'TO despise our species, is the price we must too often pay for our 

Knowledge of it. 

ftttutolefcge. — Prior. 
T>EMEMBER that the cursed desire to know, 
Offspring of Adam ! was thy source of Wo. 
Why wilt thou then renew the vain pursuit, 
And rashly catch at the forbidden Fruit; 
With empty labour and eluded strife 
Seeking, by Knowledge, to attain to life ; 
For ever from that fatal tree debarr'd, 
Which naming Swords and angry cherubs guard? 

IKttOtoletige. — Spenser. 
Base minded they that want Intelligence ; 
For God himself for Wisdom most is praised, 
And men to God thereby are nighest raised. 

l£notoietige. — Moore. 
r THE wish to know — that endless Thirst, 
Which even by quenching is awaked, 
And which becomes or blest or curst, 

As is the Fount whereat 'tis slaked — 
Still urged me onward, with Desire 
Insatiate, to explore, inquire. 

l&notoletjge. — Coiton. 

"P"VEN human Knowledge is permitted to approximate in some 
degree, and on certain occasions, to that of the Deity, its pure 
and primary source ; and this assimilation is never more con- 
spicuous than when it converts evil into the means of producing 
its opposite good. 



ItttOtoletige* — Butler. 
He knew what's what, and that's as high 
As metaphysic Wit can fly. 

IfcttOlbiffcge, — Shakspeare. 

Ignorance is the curse of God, 
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to Heaven. 

Iftttutolefcge, — Milton. 

Knowledge is as food, and needs no less 
Her temp'rance over appetite, to know 
In measure what the mind may well contain; 
Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns 
Wisdom to Folly. 

HafiOUt* — La Rochefoucauld. 
PJODILY Labour alleviates the pains of the Mind; and hence 
arises the Happiness of the poor. 

HallOUt,— Cowper. 
PJOME hither, ye that press your beds of down, 

And sleep not : see him sweating o'er his bread 
Before he eats it. — 'Tis the primal curse, 
But soften'd into Mercy ; made the pledge 
Of cheerful Days, and Nights without a groan. 

3Lat)0Ur.— Anon. 
TVHE pernicious, debilitating tendencies of bodily Pleasure need 
to be counteracted by the invigorating exercises of bodily La- 
bour; whereas bodily Labour without bodily Pleasure converts the 
body into a mere machine, and brutifies the Soul. 

Hanguage,— p. g. Niebuhr. 

HTHE writer, or even the student, of History, ought, if possible, 
to know all nations in their own Tongue. Languages have one 
inscrutable origin — as have all national peculiarities — and he has 
but an imperfect knowledge of a people who does not know their 

Hanguage, — w. b. ciuiow. 

'THE study of Languages has given a character to modern minds, 
by the habits of discrimination and analysis which it requires, 
and has partly contributed to the present advancement of Science 
and reasoning. To represent it as nothing but a criticism of 
words, or an exercise of memory, is utterly erroneous. It demands 
no trifling Perspicacity and Judgment ; admits the operations even 
of Fancy, picturing things of which words are but the symbols ; 
and tends to promote quickness and depth of Apprehension. A 
good Linguist is always a man of considerable acuteness, and often 
of pre-eminent taste. 


Eanguage. — Coleridge. 
Sublimity is Hebrew by birth. 

Uanguage.— Avon. 

"pSCHEW fine Words, as you would rouge : love simple ones, as 
you would native Roses on your cbeeks. Act as you might be 
disposed to do on your estate : employ such Words as have the 
largest families, keep clear of Foundlings, and of those of which 
nobody can tell whence they come, unless he happens to be a 

Cf)e Uatfc. — Thomson. 

Up springs the Lark, 
Shrill voiced and loud, the messenger of Morn ; 
Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings, 
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts 
Calls up the tuneful Nations. 

Cf)e Uarfe. — Southey. 

Loud sung the Lark, the awaken'd maid 
Beheld him twinkling in the morning light, 
And wish'd for Wings and Liberty like his. 

Haugijter. — Greviiie. 

A/FAN is the only creature endowed with the power of Laughter; 
is he not also the only one that deserves to be laughed at ? 

?Laugf)tet. — Sir Philip Sidney. 
QUR comedians think there is no Delight without Laughter, which 
is very wrong ; for though Laughter may come with Delight, 
yet cometh it not of Delight, as though Delight should be the 
cause of Laughter; but well may one thing breed two together. 

?lato anft 13J)ptc. — Coiton. 

PETTIFOGGERS in Law, and Empirics in Medicine, whether 
their patents lose or save their property, or their lives, take 
care to be, in either case, equally remunerated ; they profit by both 
horns of the Dilemma, and press defeat no less than success into 
their service. They hold, from time immemorial, the fee simple 
of a vast estate, subject to no alienation, diminution, revolution, 
nor tax ; the Folly and Ignorance of Mankind. 

?lato atttJ ^ijpgtc. — Fuller. 
QOMMONLY, Physicians, like beer, are best when they are old ; 
and Lawyers, like bread, when they are young and new. 

Uato of Oebelopment. — Coiton. 

'THE light of other minds is as necessary to the play and the 

Development of Genius, as the light of other bodies is to the 

play and radiation of the Diamond. A Diamond, incarcerated in 


its subterraneous prison, rough and unpolished, differs not from a 
common stone ; and a Newton or a Shakspeare, deprived of kindred 
minds, and born amongst savages — Savages had died. 

Uato ^Learning. — win. 

'THERE is a great deal of Law Learning that is dry, dark, cold, 
revolting — but it is an old feudal castle, in perfect preservation, 
which the legal architect, who aspires to the first honours of his pro- 
fession, will delight to explore, and learn all the uses to which its 
various parts used to be put : and he will the better understand, 
enjoy and relish the progressive improvements of the science in 
modern times. 

Hato,— Cotton. 
'THE science of Legislation is like that of Medicine in one respect: 
that it is far more easy to point out what will do harm, than 
what will do good. 

IL&ta). — Shakspeare. 
"V\TE must not make a scarecrow of the Law, 

Setting it up to fear the Birds of Prey, 
And let it keep one shape, till Custom make it 
Their perch, and not their terror. 

Ueammg. — Chesterjield. 
A MAN of the best parts and greatest Learning, if he does not 
know the world by his own experience and observation, will 
be very absurd, and consequently very unwelcome in Company. 
He may say very good things; but they will be probably so ill- 
timed, misplaced, or improperly addressed, that he had much better 
hold his tongue. 

ILWXninQ. — Steele. 

TTE that wants Good Sense is unhappy in having Learning, for 
he has thereby only more ways of exposing himself; and he 
that has Sense, knows that Learning is not Knowledge, but rather 
the art of using it. 

Ueantmg. — Sir William Temple. 
"V\THO can tell whether Learning may not even weaken Inven- 
tion, in a man that has great advantages from nature and 
birth ; whether the weight and number of so many men's thoughts 
and notions may not suppress his own, or hinder the motion and 
agitation of them, from which all Invention arises; as heaping on 
wood, or too many sticks, or too close together, suppresses, and 
sometimes quite extinguishes a little Spark, that would otherwise 
have grown up to a noble Flame. 

iLeanung. — Bishop Taylor. 
To be proud of Learning, is the greatest Ignorance. 


H earning.— Young. 

Your Learning, like the lunar beam, affords 
Light, but not heat ; it leaves you undevout, 
Frozen at heart, while Speculation shines. 

learning.— Milton. 

THE end of Learning is to know God, and out of that knowledge 
to love him, and to imitate him, as we may the nearest, by 
possessing our souls of true Virtue. 

^Learning. —Bishop Earie. 

A PRETENDER to Learning is one that would make all others 
more fools than himself, for though he know nothing, he would 
not have the world know so much. He conceits nothing in Learn- 
ing but the opinion, which he seeks to purchase without it, though 
he might with less labour cure his ignorance than hide it. His 
business and retirement is his Study, and he protests no delight 
to it comparable. He is a great Nomenclator of Authors, which 
he has read in general in the catalogue, and in particular in the 
Title, and goes seldom so far as the Dedication. He never talks 
of any thing but Learning, and learns all from talking. Three en- 
counters with the same men pump him. He has taken pains to be 
an Ass, though not to be a Scholar, and is at length discovered and 
laughed at. 

U earning.— Seiden. 

"^"0 man is the wiser for his Learning : it may administer matter 
to work in, or objects to work upon ; but Wit and Wisdom are 
born with a man. 

Ueamtng. — Young. 
'T/'ORACIOUS Learning, often over-fed, 

Digests not into Sense her motley meal. 
This Bookcase, with dark booty almost burst, 
This forager on others' Wisdom, leaves 
Her native farm, her reason, quite untill'd. 

ILearntng.— Powell. 

1TE who has no Inclination to learn more, will be very apt to 
think that he knows enough. 

UetSUre. — Franklin. 
"PMPLOY thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure; and 
since thou art not sure of a minute, throw not away an hour. 
Leisure is time for doing something useful ; this leisure the diligent 
man will obtain, but the lazy man never; for a life of leisure and 
a life of laziness are two things. 



ILmVLXt.— Johnson. 
VOU cannot give an instance of any man who is permitted to lay 
out his own Time, contriving not to have tedious Hours. 

ftenttg, — Goethe. 
TT is only necessary to grow old to become more indulgent. I 
see no Fault committed that I have not committed myself. 

Hettttg. — Shakspeare. 
\\THEN Lenity and Cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler 
gamester is the soonest winner. 

Hebttg. — Seneca. 
TEVITY of Behaviour is the bane of all that is good and vir- 

W§Z yLiWC. — Shakspeare. 
Past all shame, so past all Truth. 

Hlfoetaittg, — La Bruyere. 
T IBERALITY consists less in giving profusely, than in giving 

Hftertfi.— Addison. 
Q LIBERTY, thou goddess, heavenly bright, 

Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight ! 
Eternal Pleasures in thy presence reign, 
And smiling Plenty leads thy wanton train ; 
Eased of her load Subjection grows more light, 
And poverty looks cheerful in thy sight; 
Thou mak'st the gloomy face of Nature gay, 
Givest Beauty to the sun, and Pleasure to the day. 

ILtuertg. — Drijden. 
The love of Liberty with life is given, 
And life itself th' inferior gift of Heaven. 

Ettetg.— Byron. 
So let them ease their Hearts with prate 
Of equal rights, which man ne'er knew. 

Utfiertg.— Byron. 
J^TERNAL Spirit of the chainless mind ! 
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty ! thou art, 
For there thy habitation is the Heart — 
The Heart which love of thee alone can bind : 
And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd — 
To fetters and the damp vault's dayless gloom, 
Their country conquers with their Martyrdom, 
And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. 


Utfcertp,— Byron. 
'HPIS vain — my tongue cannot impart 
My almost drunkenness of Heart, 
When first this liberated eye 
Survey'd Earth, Ocean, Sun, and Sky, 
As if my spirit pierced them through 
And all their inmost wonders knew ! 
One word alone can paint to thee 
That more than feeling — I was Free ! 
E'en for thy presence ceased to pine : 
The World — nay — Heaven itself was mine ! 

Utfiertg.— Byron. 
"\TOTION was in their days, Rest in their slumbers, 

And Cheerfulness the handmaid of their toil ; 
Nor yet too many nor too few their numbers ; 

Corruption could not make their hearts her soil ; 
The lust which stings, the Splendour which encumbers ; 

With the free foresters divide no spoil; 
Serene not sullen, were the Solitudes 
Of this unsighing people of the woods. 

Utfcertp.— Byron. 
The Wish — which ages have not yet subdued 
In Man — to have no master save his mood. 

ILtfc. — Addison. 
AS it is the chief concern of wise men to retrench the evils of 
Life by the reasonings of Philosophy, it is the employment of 
fools to multiply them by the Sentiments of Superstition. 

11 ift. — La Bruyere. 
'THERE is a time, which precedes Reason, when, like other ani- 
mals, we live by instinct alone ; of which the Memory retains no 
vestiges. There is a second term, when Reason discovers itself, 
when it is formed, and might act, if it were not hoodwinked, as it 
were, and manacled by vices of the Constitutiom, and a chain of 
Passions, which succeed one another, till the third and last age : 
Reason then being in its full force, naturally should assert its dig- 
nity, and control the appetites; but it is impaired and benumbed 
by years, sickness, and pains, and shattered by the disorder of the 
declining Machine; yet these years, with their several imperfec- 
tions, constitute the Life of Man. 

l,tfe.-- chtom. 

TF you would be known, and not know, vegetate in a Village; if 
you would know, and not be known, live in a City. 


ILtfp, — Shakspeare. 
A LL the world's a Stage, 

And all the men and women merely Players ; 
They have their Exits and their Entrances, 
And one man in his time plays many parts : 
His acts being seven ages. At first the Infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms : 
And then the whining School-boy, with his satchel, 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover ) 
Sighing like Furnace, with a woful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then a Soldier; 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
Jealous in Honour, sudden and quick in quarrel ; 
Seeking the bubble Reputation 

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the Justice 
In fair round belly, with good capon lined, 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 
Full of wise saws and modern instances, 
And so he plays his Part. The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd Pantaloon, 
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side : 
His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk Shank ) and his big manly voice, 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes, 
And whistles in his sound. Last Scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful History, 
Is second Childishness, and mere oblivion, 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. 

Etfe. — Smth. 
QELDOM shall we see in Cities, Courts, and rich families where 
men live plentifully, and eat and drink freely, that perfect 
Health, that athletic soundness and vigour of Constitution, which 
is commonly seen in the country, in poor houses and cottages, 
where Nature is their cook, and Necessity their caterer, and where 
they have no other doctor but the Sun and fresh air, and that such 
a one as never sends them to the Apothecary. 

Htfe. —Byron. 
'THERE still are many Rainbows in your sky, 

But mine have vanish'd. All, when Life is new, 
Commence with feelings warm, and prospects high ; 

But Time strips our Illusions of their hue, 
And one by one in turn, some grand mistake, 
Casts off its bright skin yearly like the Snake. 


Utfe. _ Pope. 
'THE vanity of Human Life is like a Kiver, constantly passing 
away, and yet constantly coming on. 

Htf0. — Shakspeare. 
REASON thus with Life : A breath thou art, 

(Servile to all the skiey influences,) 
That dost this Habitation, where thou keep'st, 
Hourly afflict : merely, thou art Death's fool ; 
For him thou labour' st by thy flight to shun, 
And yet run'st toward him still : Thou art not noble ; 
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st 
Are nursed by Baseness : Thou art by no means valiant; 
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork 
Of a poor worm : Thy best of rest is sleep, 
And that thou oft provokest. 

Thou art not thyself; 
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains 
That issue out of Dust : Happy thou art not : 
For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get; 
And what thou hast, forget'st: Thou art not certain; 
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, 
After the Moon : If thou art rich, thou art poor; 
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, 
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a Journey, 
And Death unloads thee : Friends hast thou none ; 
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, 
The mere effusion of thy proper loins, 
Do curse the Gout, serpigo, and the rheum, 
For ending thee no sooner : Thou hast nor youth nor age ; 
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, 
Dreaming on both : for all thy blessed Youth 
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms 
Of palsied eld ; and when thou art old, and rich, 
Thou hast neither Heart, affection, limb, nor beauty, 
To make thy riches pleasant. Yet in this life 
Lie hid more thousand deaths : yet Death we fear. 

3Ltf0* — SJiakspeare. 
THIS is the state of Man ; to-day he puts forth 

The tender leaves of Hope, to-morrow blossoms, 
And bears his blushing Honours thick upon him : 
The third day, comes a Frost, a killing Frost ; 
And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His Greatness is a ripening, — nips his Fruit, 
And then he falls. 


Etfe. — Sir Walter Raleigh. 
TJESTOW thy Youth so that thou mayst have comfort to re- 
member it, when it hath forsaken thee, and not sigh and grieve 
at the account thereof. Whilst thou art young thou wilt think it 
will never have an end : but behold, the longest day hath his 
evening, and that thou shalt enjoy it but once, that it never turns 
again ; use it therefore as the Spring-time, which soon departeth, 
and wherein thou oughtest to plant and sow all provisions for a 
long and happy Life. 

!L if t.— Prior. 
A FLOWER that does with opening morn arise, 
And, flourishing the day, at evening dies ; 
A winged Eastern Blast, just skimming o'er 
The ocean's brow, and sinking on the shore; 
A Fire, whose flames through crackling stubble fly, 
A Meteor shooting from the summer sky ; 
A Bowl adown the bending Mountain roll'd; 
A Bubble breaking, and a Fable told ; 
A Noontide Shadow, and a Midnight Dream; 
Are emblems which, with semblance apt, proclaim 
Our Earthly Course. 

Utfe. — La Bruyere. 
A MAN is thirty years old before he has any settled thoughts of 
his Fortune : it is not completed before fifty j he falls a build- 
ing in his old age, and dies by that time his House is in a condition 
to be painted and glazed. 

iltfe, — Addison. 
'THE ready way to the right enjoyment of Life is, by a prospect 
toward another, to have but a very mean opinion of it. 

Htfe.— Byron. 
T\Z"HEN we have made our love, and gamed our gaming, 
Dress'd, voted, shone, and, may be, something more; 
With dandies dined ; heard senators declaiming ; 
Seen beauties brought to market by the score • 
Sad rakes to sadder husbands chastely taming ; 

There's little left but to be bored or bore. 
Witness those "ci devant jeunes hommes," who stem 
The stream, nor leave the world that leaveth them. 

iLtfe, — Scott. 
A ND there the fisherman his sail unfurl'd, 

The goat-herd drove his kids to steep Ben-Ghoil, 
Before the hut the dame her spindle turn'd, 

Courting the sunbeam as she plied her toil ; 
For, wake where'er he may, man wakes to Care and toil. 


UtfC— Moore. 
~pOR Time will come with all its blights, 

The ruin'd Hope — the friend unkind — 
The love, that leaves, where'er it lights, 

A chill'd or burning Heart behind ! 

Htfe. — La Bruyere. 
TF you suppress the exorbitant love of Pleasure and Money, idle 
Curiosity, iniquitous pursuits and wanton Mirth, what a still- 
ness would there be in the greatest Cities ! the necessaries of life do 
not occasion, at most, a third part of the Hurry. 

Htfe.— Byron. 
A MBITION was my idol, which was broken 

Before the shrines of Sorrow and of Pleasure; 
And the two last have left me many a token 

O'er which reflection may be made at leisure. 

ILtf 0. — La Bruyere. 
TF this Life is unhappy, it is a burden to us which it is difficult 
to bear ; if it is in every respect happy, it is dreadful to be de- 
prived of it ; so that in either case the result is the same, for we 
must exist in Anxiety and Apprehension. 

Htfe. — Prior. 
Who breathes, must suffer ; and who thinks, must mourn, 
And he alone is bless'd, who ne'er was born. 

ILlU. — Byron. 
J^ETWEEN two worlds Life hovers like a star, 

'Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge. 
How little do we know that which we are ! 

How less what we may be ! The eternal surge 
Of Time and Tide rolls on, and bears afar 

Our bubbles ; as the old burst, new emerge, 
Lash'd from the foam of ages; while the Graves 
Of Empires heave but like some passing, waves. 

ILtfe. — Steele. 
'THERE is nothing which must end, to be valued for its con- 
tinuance. If hours, days, months, and years pass away, it is 
no matter what hour, what day, what month, or what year we die. 
The applause of a good Actor is due to him at whatever scene of 
the play he makes his exit. It is thus in the Life of a man of 
sense ; a short life is sufficient to manifest himself a man of Ho- 
nour and Virtue ; when he ceases to be such, he has lived too 
long; and while he is such, it is of no consequence to him how 
long he shall be so, provided he is so to his life's end. 


%iU.— Cowleij. 
THERE is no fooling with Life, when it is once turned beyond 
forty ; the seeking of a Fortune then is but a desperate after- 
game : it is a hundred to one if a man fling two sixes, and recover 
all : especially if his hand be no luckier than mine. 

Utfe*— Beattie. 
AH! who can tell how hard it is to climb 

The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar; 
Ah ! who can tell how many a Soul sublime 
Has felt the influence of malignant star, 
And waged with Fortune an eternal War; 
Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, 

And Poverty's unconquerable bar, 
In Life's low vale remote has pined alone, 
Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown ! 

It tf0, — Shakspeare. 
So we'll live, 
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 
At gilded butterflies; and hear poor rogues 
Talk of Court-news, and we'll talk with them too ; 
Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out; 
And take upon us the mystery of things, 
As if we were God's spies : And we'll wear out, 
In a wall'd prison, packs and sets of great ones, 
That ebb and flow by th' Moon. 

IliU. — Steele. 
TT is not perhaps much thought of, but it is certainly a very im- 
portant lesson, to learn how to enjoy ordinary Life, and to be 
able to relish your being without the transport of some Passion, or 
gratification of some Appetite. For want of this capacity, the 
world is filled with whetters, tipplers, cutters, sippers, and all the 
numerous train of those who, for want of thinking, are forced to be 
ever exercising their feeling or tasting. 

ILife. — Cotton. 

T IFE is the jailer of the soul in this filthy prison, and its only 
deliverer is Death : what we call Life is a journey to Death, 
and what we call Death is a passport to Life. True wisdom thanks 
Death for what he takes, and still more for what he brings. Let 
us then, like sentinels, be ready because we are uncertain, and calm 
because we are prepared. There is nothing formidable about Death 
but the consequences of it, and these we ourselves can regulate and 
control. The shortest Life is long enough if it lead to a better, and 
the longest Life is too short if it do not. 


Htfe. — Byron. 

A LAS ! such is our Nature ! all but aim 

At the same end bj pathways not the same ; 
Our means, our Birth, our nation, and our name, 
Our fortune, temper, even our outward frame, 
Are far more potent o'er our yielding clay 
Than aught we know beyond our little day. 

Utf e. _ Sir W. Temple. 
TITHEN all is done, Human Life is, at the greatest and best, but 
like a froward child, that must be played with, and humoured 
a little to keep it quiet, till it falls asleep, and then the Care is 

%\it.— Byron. 
T OVE'S the first net which spreads its deadly mesh ; 

Ambition, Avarice, Vengeance, Glory, glue 
The glittering lime-twigs of our latter days, 
Where still we flutter on for peace or Praise. 

ILtfe, — Sir Philip Sidney. 
VOUTH will never live to Age, without they keep themselves 
in breath with exercise, and in heart with joy fulness. Too 
much thinking doth consume the spirits : and oft it falls out, that 
while one thinks too much of doing, he leaves to do the effect of 
his thinking. 

ILHt. — Sir W. Temple. 
\1TE bring into the world with us a poor, needy, uncertain Life, 
short at the longest, and unquiet at the best : all the imagi- 
nations of the witty and the wise have been perpetually busied to 
find out the ways how to revive it with Pleasures, or relieve it 
with Diversions ; how to compose it with Ease, and settle it with 
Safety. To some of these ends have been employed the institu- 
tions of Lawgivers, the reasonings of Philosophers, the inventions 
of Poets, the pains of labouring, and the extravagances of volup- 
tuous men. All the world is perpetually at work about nothing 
else, but only that our poor mortal Lives should pass the easier and 
happier for that little time we possess them, or else end the better 
when we lose them. 

CINCE every man who lives is born to die, 

And none can boast sincere Felicity, 
With equal mind what happens let us bear, 
Nor joy nor grieve too much for things beyond our care. 
Like pilgrims to the appointed place we tend ; 
The World's an inn, and Death the journey's end 



2Ltfe. — Young. 
The present moment, like a wife, we shun, 
And ne'er enjoy, because it is our own. 

IliU.— Campbell 
QOUNT o'er the Joys thine hours have seen, 

Count o'er thy days from Anguish free, 
And know, whatever thou hast been, 
'Tis something better not to be. 

ILlU. — Prior. 
TyB Happiness pursue ; we fly from pain ; 

Yet the pursuit, and yet the flight is vain : 
And, while poor Nature labours to be blest, 
By day with Pleasure, and by night with rest, 
Some stronger power eludes our sickly will, 
Dashing our rising Hopes with certain ill ; 
And makes us, with reflective trouble, see 
That all destined, which we fancy free. 

lltfe, — Dry den. 
T>UT ah ! how insincere are all our Joys ! 

Which, sent from Heaven, like lightning make no stay; 
Their palling taste the Journey's length destroys, 
Or Grief sent post o'ertakes them on the way. 

iLiU. — Pope. 
Is that a Birth-day ? 'tis, alas ; too clear, 
; Tis but the fun'ral of the former year. 

ILtft* — La Rochefoucauld. 
r rHERE happen sometimes accidents in Life from which it re- 
quires a degree of madness to extricate ourselves well. 

fttftf. — Spenser. 
T5TJT what on earth can long abide in state ? 

Or who can him assure of happy day ? 
Sith morning fair may bring foul evening late, 
And least mishap the most bless alter may ? 
For thousand perils lie in close await 
About us daily, to work our decay, 
That none, except a god, or God him guide, 
May them avoid, or Remedy provide. 

Htfe Steele. 

ITIE date of human Life is too short to recompense the cares 
which attend the most private condition : therefore it is that 
our Souls are made, as it were, too big for it ; and extend them- 
selves in the prospect of a longer Existence. 


Etfe.— Colton. 

COCIETY is a sphere that demands all our Energies, and de- 
serves all that it demands. He therefore that retires to cells 
and to caverns, to Stripes and to Famine, to court a more arduous 
conflict, and to win a richer Crown, is doubly deceived ; the conflict 
is less, the reward is nothing. He may indeed win a race, if he 
can be admitted to have done so who had no Competitors, because 
he chose to run alone ; but he will be entitled to no Prize, because 
he ran out of the course. 

W H / 

Htf0. — Spenser. 
[EN I beheld this fickle, trustless state 
Of vain world's glory, flitting to and fro, 
And mortal men toss'd by troublous Fate, 
In restless seas of Wretchedness and Woo, 
I wish I might this weary Life forego, 
And shortly turn unto my happy rest, 

Where my free Spirit might not any more 
Be vex'd with sights that do her peace molest. 

ILtfe. — Young. 
Like some fair hum'rists, Life is most enjoy'd, 
When courted least; most worth, when disesteem'd. 

TLiU. — Pope. 
T OYE, Hope, and Joy, fair Pleasure's smiling train; 

Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of Pain ; 
These, mixt with Art, and to due bounds confined, 
Make and maintain the balance of the Mind ; 
The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife 
Gives all the strength and colour of our Life. 

ILtfe Byron. 

LOVE ! Glory ! what are ye ? who fly 

Around us ever, rarely to alight : 
There's not a Meteor in the polar Sky 

Of such transcendent and more fleeting flight. 
Chill, and chain'd to cold earth, we lift on high 

Our eyes in search of either lovely light; 
A thousand and a thousand colours they 
Assume, then. leave us on our freezing way 

iltfe. — Shakspeare. 
The time of Life is short; 
To spend that shortness basely, were too long, 
If Life did ride upon a dial's point, 
Stili ending at the arrival of an hour. 


274 1 L I r s TR A TIO N S OF TR D T II ; 

%L\U. — Shakspeare. 
"\TOUK worm is your only Emperor for diet; we fat all creatures 
else, to fat us; and we fat ourselves for Maggots ; your fat 
King, and your lean Beggar, is but variable service ; two dishes, 
but to one table ; that's the end. A man may fish with the worm 
that hath eat of a King : aud eat of the fish that hath fed of that 

UtfC — Byron. 
"VyE wither from our youth, we gasp away — 

Sick — sick ; tmfound the boon — unslaked the thirst, 
Though to the last, in verge of our decay, 

Some Phantom lures, such as we thought at first — 
But all too late. — so we are doubly curst. 
Love, Fame, Ambition, Avarice — 'tis the same, 
Each idle — aud all ill — and none the worst — 
For all are meteors with a different name, 
And Death the sable smoke where vanishes the Flame. 

IliU. — Bi/ron. 
\yELL — well, the world must turn upon its axis, 
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails, 
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes, 

And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails; 
The King commands us, and the Doctor quacks us, 

The Priest instructs, and so our life exhales; 
A little Breath, Love, Wine, Ambition, Fame, 
Fighting, Devotion, Dust, — perhaps a Name. 

iltfe.— Prior. 
Thus we act ; and thus we are, 
Or toss'd by Hope, or sunk by Care. 
With endless pain this man pursues 
What, if he gained, he could not use : 
And t'other fondly hopes to see 
What never was, nor e'er shall be. 
We err by use, go wrong by rules, 
In gesture grave, in action fools: 
We join Hypocrisy to Pride, 
Doubling the faults we strive to hide. 

lUft. — MOton. 

J>ETTER end here unborn. Why is Life given 

To be thus wrested from us? rather why 
Obtruded on us thus ? who if we knew 
What wo receive, would either not accept 
Life offer'd, or soon beg to lay it down, 
Glad to be so dismiss'd in Peace. 


ILiU. — Spenser. 
A ND ye, fond men ! on Fortune's wheel that ride, 

Or in aught under Heaven repose assurance, 
Be it Riches, Beauty, or Honour's pride, 

Be sure that they shall have no long endurance, 
But ere ye be aware will flit away; 

For naught of them is yours, but only th' usance 
Of a small time, which none ascertain may. 

ILtfe. — Shakspeare. 
'THAT time of year thou may'st in me behold, 

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang 
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, 

Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. 
In me thou seest the twilight of such day 

As after sunset fadeth in the west; 
Which by and by black Night doth take away, 

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. 
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire, 

That on the ashes of his Youth doth lie ; 
As the death-bed whereon it must expire, 

Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. 

llife. — Touiifj. 
T\THY all this toil for triumphs of an hour? 

What tho' we wade in Wealth, or soar in Fame '( 
Earth's highest station ends in " Here he lies :" 
And "Dust to dust" concludes her noblest song. 

ILtfe. — Milton. 
Nor love thy Life, nor hate ; but whilst thou livest 
Live well ; how long, how short, permit to Heaven. 

Utfe.— Young. 
There's not a day, but, to the Man of Thought, 
Betrays some secret, that throws new reproach 
On Life, and makes him sick of seeing more. 

ILtfc. — Young. 
JpRE man has measured half his weary Stage, 

His luxuries have left him no reserve, 
No maiden relishes, no unbroach'd delights; 
On cold-served repetitions he subsists, 
And in the tasteless present chews the past; 
Disgusted chews, and scarce can swallow down. 
Like lavish ancestors, his earlier years 
Have disinherited his future Hours, 
Which starve on orts, and glean their former field. 



ILtfC. — Dry den. 
"Y^HEN I consider Life, 'tis all a cheat; 

Yet, fool'd with Hope men favour the deceit* 
Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay ; 
To-morrow's falser than the former day; 
Lies worse, and, while it says, we shall be blest, 
With some new Joys, cuts off what we possest. 
Strange cozenage ! None would live past years again, 
Yet all hope Pleasure in what yet remain ; 
And, from the dregs of life, think to receive, 
What the first sprightly running could not give. 
I'm tired with waiting for this chemic Gold, 
Which fools us young, and beggars us when old. 

Htft. — Byron. 

/^j-RIEF should be the instructor of the wise ; 

Sorrow is Knowledge : they who know the most 
Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal Truth, 
The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life. 

Htfe» — Burns. 
f} LIFE ! how pleasant is thy morning, 

Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning ! 
Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning, 

We frisk away, 
uike school-boys, at th' expected warning, 

To joy and play. 
We wander there, we wander here, 
We eye the Rose upon the brier, 
Unmindful that the Thorn is near, 

Among the leaves; 
And though the puny wound appear, 

Short while it grieves. 

ILtf£. — Shakspeare. 
There's nothing in this World can make me joy : 
Life is as tedious as a twice-told Tale 
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. 

Htfe. — Young. 
T IFE'S little stage is a small eminence, 

Inch-high the grave above : that home of man, 
Where dwells the multitude : we gaze around ; 
We read their Monuments; we sigh; and while 
We sigh, we sink ; and are what we deplored; 
Lamenting ^r lamented, all our lot ! 


Irtfe. — Thomson. 

"pVEN so luxurious men, unheeding, pass 
An idle Summer-life in Fortune's shine, 
A season's glitter ! Thus they flutter on 
From toy to toy, from Vanity to Vice; 
Till, blown away by Death, Oblivion comes 
Behind, and strikes them from the Book of Life. 

ILtfe. — Young. 
TTOW must a spirit, late escaped from Earth, 

The truth of things new-blazing in his eye, 
Look back, astonish'd, on the ways of Men, 
Whose Lives' whole drift is to forget their graves ! 

ILtf^. — Spenser. 
(")H, vain world's 'glory, and unsteadfast state, 

Of all that lives on face of sinful Earth ! 
Which from their first until their utmost date 
Taste no one hour of Happiness or Mirth, 
But like as at the ingate of their birth, 
They crying creep out of their mother's womb, 
So wailing back go to their woeful Tomb. 

ILlU. — Bt/ron. 
\\TE are fools of Time and Terror : days 

Steal on us and steal from us ; yet we live, 
Loathing our Life, aud dreading still to die. 
In all the days of this detested yoke — 
This vital weight upon the struggling Heart, 
Which sinks with sorrow, or beats quick with pain, 
Or joy that ends in Agony or faintness — 
In all the days of past and future, for 
In Life there is no present, we can number 
How few, how less than few — wherein the soul 
Forbears to pant for Death, and yet draws back 
As from a stream in winter, though the chill 
Be but a moment's. 

ILtff, — Spenser. 

OH, why doe wretched men so much desire 
To draw their Dayes unto the utmost date, 

And doe not rather wish them soone expire, 
Knowing the Miserie of their estate, 
And thousand perills which them still awate, 

Tossing them like a boate amid the mayne, 

That every houre they knocke at Deathe's gate ? 

And he that happie seemes and leaste in payne, 

Yet is as nigh his End as he that most doth playne 


Htfe. — Shakspeare. 
'J'O-MORROW, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, 
To the last syllable of recorded Time : 
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty Death. Out, out, brief candle ! 
Life's but a walking shadow ; a poor player, 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
And then is heard no more : it is a Tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
Signifying nothing. 

ILtftf, — Spenser. 
A FTER long storms and tempests overblowne, 
The Suune at length his joyous face doth cleare 

50 when as Fortune all her spight hath showne, 
Some blissful hours at last must needes appeare ; 
Else should afflicted wights ofttimes despeire. 

ILtftf. — Shakspeare. 
Love all, trust a few, 
Do wrong to none ; be able for thine Enemy 
Rather in power, than use ; and keep thy Friend 
Under thy own life's key ; be check'd for Silence, 
But never tax'd for Speech. 

Etfe. — Young. 

T'HE world's infectious; few bring back at eve 

Immaculate, the Manners of the morn. 
Something we thought, is blotted ; we resolved, 
Is shaken ; we renounced, returns again. 

Utfe. — Thomson. 
T'HE human race are sons of Sorrow born ; 

And each must have his portion. Vulgar minds 
Refuse, or crouch beneath their load ; the Brave 
Bear theirs without repining. 

?itfe, — Spenser. 

51 ITCH is the weaknesse of all mortall Hope ; 

So fickle is the state of earthly things ; 

That ere they come unto their aymed scope, 
They fall too short of our fraile reckonings, 
And bring us bale and bitter sorrowings, 

Instead of Comfort which we should embrace : 
This is the state of Keasars and of Kings ! 

Let none, therefore, that is in meaner place, 

Too greatly grieve at his unlucky case ! 


iLtfe.— Cowper. 
A SK what is Human Life — the Sage replies, 
With disappointment low'ring in his eyes, 
A painful Passage o'er a restless flood, 
A vain Pursuit of fugitive false good, 
A sense of fancied Bliss and heartfelt care, 
Closing at last in Darkness and despair. 

ILlfe. — Keats. 
"POUR seasons fill the measure of the year : 

There are four seasons in the Mind of man * 
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear 

Takes in all beauty with an easy span : 
He has his Summer, when luxuriously 

Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he lovep 
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high 

Is nearest unto Heaven : quiet coves 
His soul hath in its Autumn, when his wings 

He furleth close j contented so to look 
On mists in Idleness — to let fair things 

Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook. 
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, 
Or else he would forego his mortal nature. 

Cfje ItUtB'S HifZ. — Shakspeare. ' 
'THE single and peculiar Life is bound, 

With all the strength and armour of the Min'i, 
To keep itself from 'noyance ; but much more 
That Spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest 
The lives of many. The cease of Majesty 
Dies not alone ; but, like a gulf, doth draw 
What's near it, with it : it is a massy wheel, 
Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, 
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things 
Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls, 
Each small annexment, petty consequence, 
Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone 
Did the King sigh, but with a general Groan 

£tgf)t. — Milton. 

TTAIL holy Light, offspring of Heaven first born, 

Or of the eternal co-eternal beam, 
May I express thee unblamed ? since God is light, 
And never but in unapproached light, 
Dwelt from Eternity, dwell then in thee, 
Bright effluence of bright essence increate. 


IUjjf)k — Milton. 

Before the Sun, 
Before the Heavens thou wert, and at the voice 
Of God, as with a mantle didst invest 
The rising world of Waters dark and deep 
Won from the void and formless Infinite. 

(EeleSttal Etgf)t.— Shakspeare. 
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell : 
Though all things foul would wear the brows of Grace, 
Yet Grace must still look so. 

listening. — Coiton. 

"Y^ERL we as eloquent as Angels, yet should we please some 
Men, some Women, and some Children much more by listen- 
ing than by talking. 

Utteratitte.— Anon. 

T ITERARY Dissipation is no less destructive of sympathy with 
the living world, than sensual Dissipation. Mere Intellect is 
as hard-hearted and as heart-hardening as mere Sense ; and the 
union of the two, when uncontrolled by the Conscience, and with- 
out the softening, purifying influences of the moral affections, is 
all that is requisite to produce the diabolical ideal of our Nature. 
Noi iA there any repugnance in either to coalesce with the other : 
witness lago, Tiberius, Borgia. 

Utter ature. — Prescott. 

r rHE triumphs of the warrior are bounded by the narrow theatre 
of his own age ; but those of a Scott or a Shakspeare will be re- 
newed with greater and greater lustre in ages yet unborn, when 
the victorious chieftain shall be forgotten, or shall live only in the 
song of the minstrel and the page of the chronicler. 

Utbmrj.— Addison. 
T^HE man who will live above his present circumstances, is in great 
danger of living in a little time much beneath them. 

UtbhtguielL — Fuller. 
TTE lives long that lives well; and Time misspent, is not lived, 
but lost. Besides, God is better than his promise if he takes 
from him a long lease, and gives him a Freehold of a better value. 

Utbtng IttelL — Seneca. 

TT is the bounty of Nature that we live, but of Philosophy that 
we live well; which is, in truth, a greater benefit than Life 


HOtrtHm. — Johnson. 

TTERE Malice, Rapine, Accident, conspire, 

And now a Rabble rages, and now a Fire ; 
Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay, 
And here the fell Attorney prowls for prey ; 
Here falling houses thunder on your head, 
And here a female Atheist talks you dead. 

UotVtJOn.— Byron. 
A MIGHTY Mass of Brick, and smoke, and shipping, 

Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye 
Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping 

In sight, then lost amidst the forestry 
Of masts ; a wilderness of Steeples peeping 
On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy, 
A huge dun Cupola, like a foolscap crown 
On a fool's head — and there is London Town ! 

3LontJ01t.— Johnson. 
T ONDON ! the needy Villain's gen'ral home, 
The common sewer of Paris and of Rome; 
With eager Thirst, by folly or by fate, 
Sucks in the dregs of each corrupted State. 

IrMtgebttg.— Cotton. 

T\T ERE the Life of man prolonged, he would become such a pro- 
ficient in villany, that it would be necessary again to drown or 
to burn the World. Earth would become a Hell : for future re- 
wards, when put off to a great distance, would cease to encourage, 
and future punishments to alarm. 

ILoofemg uptoarto. — Coiton. 

" OUR thoughts/' says an eloquent divine, " like the waters of 
the sea, when exhaled toward Heaven, will lose all their 
bitterness and saltness, and sweeten into an amiable Humanity, 
until they descend in gentle showers of love and kindness upon our 
fellow-men. " 

UfjquaCttD. — Fuller. 
I" EARN to hold thy Tongue. Five Words cost Zacharias forty 
Weeks' Silence. 

EOOniaCttp.— Fuller. 
THOU may'st esteem a Man of many Words and many Lies much 

?i.0be. — Shakspeare. 
She is so conjunctive to my life and Soul, 
That, as the Star moves not but in his Sphere, 
I could not but by her. 


llobe SJidkspeare. 

OR, that persuasion could but thus convince me. 

That my Integrity and Truth to you 
Might be affronted with the match and weight 
Of such a winnow'd purity in Love : 
How were I then up-lifted ! but alas, 
I am as true as Truth's simplicity, 
And simpler than the infancy of Truth. 

Uobe. — Slidkspeare. 
This bud of Love, by summer's ripening breath, 
May prove a beauteous Flower, when next we meet. 

Uobe. _ Campbell. 
TN joyous Youth, what soul hath never known 

Thought, feeling, taste, harmonious to its own? 
Who hath not paused while Beauty's pensive eye 
Ask'd from his Heart the homage of a sigh ? 
Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame, 
The power of Grace, the magic of a Name ? 

ftobe. — Shakspeare. 
Q BRAWLING Love ! loving Hate! 

anything, of nothing first create ! 
O heavy lightness ! serious Vanity ! 
Mis-shapen Chaos of well-seeming forms ! 
Feather of Lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick Health ! 
Still-waking Sleep, that is not what it is ! 

Uobe. — Moore. 
T OVE was to his impassion'd soul 
Not, as with others, a mere part 
Of its existence, but the whole — 
The very Life Breath of his Heart ! 

Uobe. — Byron. 

Instead of poppies, Willows 
Waved o'er his couch ; he meditated, fond 
Of those sweet bitter thoughts which banish sleep, 
And make the Worldling sneer, the Youngling weep. 

Uobe. — Spenser. 
So Love does raine 
In stoutest minds, and maketh monstrous Warre : 

He maketh warre : he maketh Peace againe, 
And yett his Peace is but continuall Jarre : 
Oh miserable men that to him subject arre ! 


HO be, — Mrs. Tighe. 
/~\H ! never may Suspicion's gloomy sky 

Chill the sweet glow of fondly trusting Love ! 
Nor ever may he feel the scowling eye 

Of dark Distrust his Confidence reprove ! 

In pleasing error may I rather rove, 
With blind reliance on the hand so dear, 

Than let cold Prudence from my eyes remove 
Those sweet delusions, where no doubt nor fear, 
Nor foul Disloyalty, nor cruel Change appear. 

HO be. — Shakspeare. 
She loved me for the Dangers I had pass'd ; 
And I loved her, that she did pity them. 

Hobe. — Shakspeare. 
A lover's pinch, 
Which hurts, and is desired. 

Uobe. — Byron. 
Oh ! I envy those 
Whose Hearts on Hearts as faithful can repose, 
Who never feel the void — the wandering thought 
That sighs o'er visions — such as mine hath wrought. 

Hobe. — Sliakspeare. 
If ever thou shalt love, 
In the sweet pangs of it remember me : 
For, such as I am, all true Lovers are ; 
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, 
Save, in the constant Image of the creature 
That is beloved. 

ItObe. — Shakspeare. 
I tell thee, I am mad 
In Cressid's love. Thou answer'st, she is fair; 
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my Heart 
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice ; 
Handiest in thy discourse — that ! her hand ! 
(In whose comparison, all whites are Ink 
Writing their own reproach) to whose soft seizure 
The Cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of Sense 
Hard as the palm of Ploughman. 

Hobe. — Shakspeare. 
If he be not one that truly loves you, 
That errs in Ignorance, and not in cunning, 
I have no judgment in an Honest face. 


Eobe. — Mrs. Tight. 
(~)H \ "who the exquisite delight can tell, 

The joy which mutual Confidence imparts? 
Or who can paint the charm unspeakable 

Which links in tender bands two faithful Hearts ? 

In vain assail'd by Fortune's envious darts, 
Their mitigated woes are sweetly shared, 

And doubled Joy reluctantly departs: 
Let but the sympathizing heart be spared, 
What Sorrow seems not light, what Peril is not dared? 

ILtlbc, — Shdkspeare. 
T>OLDNESS comes to me now, and brings me Heart: 

Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day, 
For many weary months. 
Why was my Cressid then so hard to win ? 
Hard to seem won : but I was won, my lord, 
With the first glance that ever — pardon me — ■ 
If I confess much, you will play the Tyrant : 
I love you now; but not till now, so much 
But I might master it — in faith, I lie — 
My thoughts were, like unbridled children, grown 
Too headstrong for their Mother; see, we fools ! 
Why have I blabb'd ? who shall be true to us, 
When we are so unsecret to ourselves ? 
But though I loved you well, I woo'd you not ; 
And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a Man : 
Or that We women had men's privilege, 
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue ; 
For in this rapture I shall surely speak 
The thing I shall repent ; see, see, your silence 
(Cunning in dumbness) from my Weakness draws 
My very Soul of Counsel. 

Hofce*— Dry&en. 

The power of Love, 
In Earth, and Seas, and Air, and Heaven above, 
Rules, unresisted, with an awful nod; 
By daily miracles declared a god : 
He blinds the Wise, gives eyesight to the blind ; 
And moulds and stamps anew the Lover's mind. 

Efjbe. — Sir Samuel E. Brydges. 
f\ Love ! requited Love, how fine thy thrills, 

That shake the trembling flame with ecstasy; 
Even every vein celestial pleasure fills, 
And inexpressive Bliss is in each sigh. 


ilobp. — Shakspeare. 
To be 
In love, where Scorn is bought with Groans; coy Looks, 
With heart-sore Sighs ; one fading moment's Mirth ; 
With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights : 
If haply won, perhaps, a hapless gain; 
If lost, why then a grievous labour won; 
However, but a. Folly bought with Wit, 
Or else a Wit by Folly vanquished. 

HO be. — Shahspeare. 

Why, what would you ? 
Make me a Willow cabin at your gate, 
And call upon my Soul within the house; 
Write loyal cantos of contemned Love, 
And sing them loud even in the dead of night; 
Holla your name to the reverberate Hills, 
And make the babbling gossip of the air 
Cry out, Olivia ! Oh, you should not rest 
Between the elements of Air and Earth, 
But you should pity me. 

HOue. — Shahspeare. 
"RUT Love, first learned in a lady's Eyes, 
Lives not alone immured in the Brain; 
But with the motion of all elements, 
Courses as swift as Thought in every power ; 
And gives to every power a double power, 
Above their functions and their offices. 
It adds a precious seeing to the Eye : 
A Lover's Eyes will gaze an Eagle blind ! 
A Lover's Ear will hear the lowest sound, 
When the suspicious head of thrift is stopt. 
Love's Feeling is more soft and sensible, 
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails. 
Love's Tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in Taste ; 
For Savour, is not Love a Hercules? 
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides. 
Subtle as Sphinx ; as sweet and musical 
As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair : 
And when Love speaks the voice of all the Gods, 
Mark, Heaven drowsie with the harmony ! 
Never durst Poet touch a pen to write, 
Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs; 
Oh, then his lines would ravish savage ears, 
And plant in Tyrants mild humility. 


Hebe. — Shakspeare. 
Alas, that Love, whose view is muffled still, 
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his Will ! 

E0be.-- Sir A. Hunt. 

"VyHAT is Love? 'tis not the kiss 
Of a harlot lip — the Bliss 

That doth perish 

Even while we cherish 
The fleeting Charm : and what so fleet as this ? 

He is bless'd in Love alone, 

Who loves for years, and loves but one. 

3Lobe* — Shakspeare. 
How wayward is this foolish Love, 
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, 
And presently, all humbled, kiss the Rod ? 

Uobe. — Shakspeare. 
Our separation so abides, and flies, 
That thou, residiug here, go'st yet with me, 
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. 

?l0bC- — Campbell. 
C\ LOVE ! in such a wilderness as this, 

Where Transport and Security entwine, 
Here is the empire of thy perfect Bliss, 

And here thou art a God indeed divine; 

Here shall no forms abridge, no hours confine 
The views, the walks, that boundless Joy inspire ! 

Roll on, ye days of raptured influence, shine ! 
Nor blind with Ecstasy's celestial fire, 
Siall Love behold the spark of earth-born Time expire 

?Lobe. — Shakspeare. 

Oh, for a Falconer's voice, 
To lure this tassel-gentle back again ! 
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; 
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, 
And make her airy Tongue more hoarse than mine 
With repetition of my Romeo's name. 

ILfjbe. — Shakspeare. 
TVrHAT ! keep a Week away? seven Days and Nights? 
Eightscore Eight Hours ? and Lovers' absent Hours, 
More tedious than the dial, eightscore times ? 
Oh weary Reckoning ! 



HO be. — Shakspeare. 
So holy and so perfect is my Love, 
And I in such a poverty of Grace, 
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop 
To glean the broken ears after the man 
That the main Harvest reaps : loose now and then 
A scatter' d Smile, and that I'll live upon. 

3L0be. — Byron. 
! the Love of Women ! it is known 
To be a lovely and a fearful thing ; 
For all of theirs upon that Die is thrown : 

And if 'tis lost, Life has no more to bring 
To them but mockeries of the past alone. 

?iOu0, — Shakspeare. 
F DID not take my leave of him, but had 

Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him, 
How I would think on him, at certain Hours, 
Such Thoughts, and such; 

Or have charged him 
At the sixth hour of Morn, at Noon, at Midnight, 
To encounter me with Orisons, for then 
I am in Heaven for him; or ere I could 
Give him that parting Kiss, which I had set 
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my Father, 
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, 
Shakes all our Buds from growing. 

HobC— Shakspeare. 

While injury of chance 
Puts back Leave-taking, justles roughly by 
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our Lips 
Of all rejoyndure, forcibly prevents 
Our lock'd Embraces, strangles our dear Vows, 
Even in the birth of our own labouring Breath. 
We two, that with so many thousand Sighs 
Each other bought, must poorly sell ourselves 
With the rude Brevity and Discharge of one. 
Injurious Time now, with a robber's haste, 
Crams his rich thiev'ry up, he knows not how. 
As many Farewells as be stars in Heaven, 
With distinct breath and consign'd Kisses to them, 
He fumbles up all in one loose Adieu; 
And scants us with a single famish'd Kiss, 
Distasted with the salt of broken Tears. 


?lobe. — Spenser. 
For Lovers' Eyes mere sharply sighted be 
Thau other men's, and in dear Love's delight 
See more than any other Eyes can see. 

ILobe.— Moore. 

f)H ! who, that has ever had Rapture complete, 

Would ask how we feel it, or why it is sweet; 
How rays are confused, or how particles fly, 
Through the medium refined of a Glance or a Sigh ! 
Is there one, who but once would not rather have known it? 
Than written, with Harvey, whole Volumes upon it ? 

?iobe. — Shakspeare. 
A loss of her, 
That, like a Jewel, has hung twenty years, 
About his neck, yet never lost her Lustre. 

ltd be. — Shakspeare. 
VOU are a Lover; borrow Cupid's wings, 

And soar with them above a common bound. . . . 
I am too sore empierced with his Shaft, 
To soar with his light feathers; and so bound, 
I cannot bound a pitch above dull Wo : 
Under Love's heavy burden do I sink. 

ILobe. — Shakspeare. 
Love goes toward Love, as school-boys from their books; 
But Love from Love, toward school with heavy looks. 

2Lobe. — Spenser. 
No lesse was she in secret Hart affected, 
But that she masked it with Modestie 
For feare she should of Lightnesse be detected. 

Uobe. — Shakspeare. 

I would have thee gone ; 
And yet no farther than a wanton's Bird, 
That lets it hop a little from her hand, 
Like a poor Prisoner in his twisted gyves, 
And with a silk thread plucks it back again, 
So loving-jealous of his Liberty. 

ILobe. — Shakspeare. 
I will wind thee in my arms; 
So doth the Woodbine, the sweet Honey-suckle, 
Gently entwist the Maple ; Ivy so 
Enrings the barky fingers of the Elm. 


ilobe, — Shakspeare. 

Lovers and Madmen have such seething brains, 
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend 
More than cool Reason ever comprehends. 

Uobe, — Spenser. 
QHEE greatly gan enamoured to wex, 

And with vain thoughts her falsed fancy vex : 
Her fickle Hart conceived hasty Fyre, 

Like sparkes of Fire that fall in sclender flex, 
That shortly brent into extreme Desyre, 
And ransackt all her veines with Passion entyre. 

ILobe,— Moore. 

GHE loves — but knows not whom she loves, 

Nor what his race, nor whence he came ; — 
Like one who meets, in Indian groves, 

Some beauteous Bird without a name, 
Brought by the last ambrosial Breeze, 
From isles in th' undiscover'd seas, 
To show his Plumage for a day 
To wondering eyes, and wing away ! 

Uobe. — Shakspeare. 
Now by the jealous queen of Heaven, that Kiss 
I carried from thee, dear; my true Lip 
Hath virgin' d it e'er since. 

Hobc. — Spenser. 
CAD, solemne, sowre, and full of Fancies fraile 
She woxe, yet wist she nether how nor why; 
She wist not (silly mayd) what she did aile, 
Yet wist she was not well at ease perdy, 
Yet thought it was not Love but some Melancholy. 

ILobe. — ShaJcspeare. 
Oh, what damn'd Minutes tells he o'er, 
Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves! 

iUbe. — Byron. 
TT was such pleasure to behold him, such 

Enlargement of Existence to partake 
Nature with him, to thrill beneath his touch, 

To watch him slumbering, and to see him wake : 
To live with him for ever were so much ; 

But then the thought of parting made her quake ; 
He was her own, her Ocean-treasure, cast 
Like a rich Wreck — her First love, and her Last. 



Eobe. — Mrs. Tiglie. 
~[JNHAPPY Psyche ! soon the latent wound 

The fading Roses of her Cheek confess, 
Her Eyes' bright Beams, in swimming sorrows drown'd, 

Sparkle no more with Life and Happiness, 

Her parent's fond Heart to bless; 
She shuns adoring crowds, and seeks to hide 

The pining sorrows which her Soul oppress, 
Till to her mother's tears no more denied, 
The secret Grief she owns, for which she lingering sigh'd. 

ILobe. — Shakspeare. 
All thy vexations 
Were but my trials of thy Love, and thou 
Hast strangely stood the Test. 

HO be. — Spenser. 
THE rolling Wheel, that runneth often round, 
The hardest Steel in tract of Time doth tear ; 
And drizzling Drops, that often do redound, 

Firmest Flint doth in continuance wear : 

Yet cannot I, with many a dropping tear, 
And long entreaty, soften her hard Heart, 

That she will once vouchsafe my plaint to hear, 
Or look with pity on my painful Smart : 
But when I plead, she bids me play my part; 

And when I weep, she says Tears are but water ; 
And when I sigh, she says I know the art; 

And when I wail, she turns herself to Laughter: 
So do I weep and wail, and plead in vain, 
Whiles she as Steel and Flint doth still remain. 

Udbe. — Shakspeare. 
TAKE, oh, take those Lips away, 
That so sweetly were forsworn; 
And those Eyes, the break of day, 

Lights that do mislead the Morn ; 
But my Kisses bring again, 
Seals of Love, but seal'd in vain. 

IlO be. — Shakspeare. 

Mine Eyes 
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; 
Mine Ears, that heard her flattery; nor my Heart, 
That thought her like her Seeming : it had been vicious. 
To have mistrusted her. 


?Lobe* — Shakspeare. 
How all the other passions fleet to air, 
As doubtful Thoughts, and rash-embraced Despair, 
And shudd'ring Fear, and green-eyed Jealousie. 

Love, be moderate, allay thy ecstacie ; 
In measure rein thy joy, scant this excess; 

1 feel too much thy blessing, make it less, 
For fear I surfeit. 

Itobe. — Byron. 
TTOW beautiful she look'd ! her conscious Heart 
Grlow'd in her Cheek, and yet she felt no wrong. 

Love, how perfect is thy mystic Art, 
Strengthening the Weak, and trampling on the Strong ! 

How self-deceitful is the sagest part 

Of mortals whom thy Lure hath led along ! 

?iobf . — Shakspeare. 
'THAT which I show, Heaven knows, is merely Love 

Duty and zeal to your unmatch'd mind, 
Care of your food and living : and, believe it, 
For any benefit that points to me, 
Either in Hope, or present, I'd exchange 
For this one wish, that you had Power and Wealth, 
To requite me, by making rich yourself. 

2L0be. — Byron. 
THE World was not for them, nor the World's art 

For beings passionate as Sappho's song; 
Love was born with them, in them, so intense, 
It was their very Spirit — not a sense. 

ILobe. — Moore. 
HPHE world ! — ah, Fanny ! Love must shun 

The path where many rove ; 
One Bosom to recline upon, 
One Heart to be his only-one, 

Are quite enough for Love ! 

Urjbe* — Shakspeare. 

1 GROW to you, and our Parting is a tortured body. 

Ufjbe. — La Bruyere. 
T OVE seizes on us suddenly, without giving warning, and our 
Disposition or our Weakness favours the Surprise; one Look, 
one Glance from the fair, fixes and determines us. Friendship, 
on the contrary, is a long time in forming; it is of slow growth, 
through many trials and months of Familiarity. 


HO be. — SJiakspeare. 
Should we be taking Leave 
As long a term as yet we have to live, 
The Loathness to depart would grow. 

Il0 be. — SJiakspeare. 
"V\/"HAT shall I do to win my Lord again ? 

Good friend, go to him ; for, by this light of Heaven, 
I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel : 
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his Love, 
Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed; 
Or that mine Eyes, mine Ears, or any sense, 
Delighted them in any other form ; 
Or that I do not yet, and ever did, 
And ever will, — though he do shake me off 
To beggarly Divorcement, — love him dearly, 
Comfort forswear me ; Unkindness may do much ; 
And his Unkindness may defeat my Life, 
But never taint my Love. 

HO be. — Byron. 
HTHEY should have lived together deep in Woods, 

Unseen as sings the Nightingale ; they were 
Unfit to mix in these thick Solitudes 

Call'd social, where all vice and hatred are ; 

How lonely every freeborn creature broods ! 

The sweetest Song-birds nestle in a pair; 

The Eagle soars alone : the Gull and Crow 

Flock o'er their Carrion, just as mortals do. 

HO be. — SJiakspeare. 
FRIENDSHIP is constant in all other things, 

Save in the office and affairs of Love : 
Therefore, all hearts in Love use their own Tongues ; 
Let every Eye negotiate for itself, 
And trust no agent : for Beauty is a witch, 
Against whose charms Faith melteth into Blood. 

Hobe. — SJiakspeare. 

Love is not Love, 
When it is mingled with Respects, that stand 
Aloof from the entire point. 

Hobe.— Byron. 
/~)H beautiful ! and rare as beautiful ! 

But theirs was Love in which the mind delights 
To lose itself, when the old world grows dull, 
And we are sick of its hack Sounds and Sights. 


3Lt)be. — Shahspeare. 
A MURd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon, 
Thans Love that would seem hid ; Love's night is Noon. 

Hebe* — S/iakspeare. 
Sweet Love, changing his property, 
Turn to the sourest and most deadly Hate. 

HO be. — Moore. 
;r TWAS his own Voice. She could not err, 

Throughout the breathiug world's extent 
There was but one such Voice for her, 

So kind, so soft, so eloquent; 
Oh ! sooner shall the Rose of May 

Mistake her own sweet Nightingale, 
And to some meaner minstrel's lay 

Open her bosom's glowing vail, 
Than Love shall ever doubt a tone, 

A breath of the beloved One ! 

Hobe. — Shahspeare. 
Nature is fine in Love ; and, where 'tis fine, 
It sends some precious instance of itself 
After the thing it loves. 

?i0be. — Shahspeare. 
THERE lives within the very flame of Love 

A kind of Wick, or Snuff, that will abate it; 
And nothing is at a like goodness still : 
For goodness, growing to a Pleurisy, 
Dies in his own too-much. 

2Lobe.— Byron. 
A H, happy sbe ! to 'scape from him whose Kiss 

Had been pollution unto aught so chaste ; 
Who soon had left her charms for vulgar Bliss, 
And spoil'd her goodly Lands to gild his waste, 
Nor calm domestic Peace had ever deign'd to taste. 

ILobe. — Shahspeare. 
Where Love is great, the littlest doubts are fear ; 
Where little Fears grow great, great Love grows there 

llObe. — Shahspeare. 
Looks kill Love, and Love by looks reviveth : 
A Smile recures the wounding of a Frown, 
But blessed bankrupt, that by Love so thriveth 


ILobe. — Byron. 

The river 
Damrn'd from its Fountain — the Child from the Knee 

And Breast maternal wean'd at once for ever, 
Would wither less than these two torn apart ! 
Alas ! there is no instinct like the Heart ! 

Hob*.— -Byron. 

A ND he was mourn'd by one whose quiet Grief 
Less loud, outlasts a people's for their chief. 
Vain was all question ask'd her of the past, 
And vain e'en menace — silent to the last; 
She told nor whence nor why she left behind 
Her all for one who seem'd but little kind. 
Why did she love him ? Curious fool ! — be still — 
Is human Love the growth of human will ? 
To her he might be Gentleness; the stern 
Have deeper thoughts than your dull eyes discern, 
And when they love, your smilers guess not how 
Beats the strong Heart, though less the Lips avow. 

ILobe. — Shakspeare. 
She never told her Love, 
But let Concealment, like a worm i' the bud, 
Feed on her damask Cheek; she pined in thought; 
And, with a green and yellow Melancholy 
She sat (like patience on a monument) 
Smiling at Grief. 

Hobe. — Byron. 
T>UT there was something wanting on the whole — ■ 
I don't know what, and therefore cannot tell — 
Which, pretty women — the sweet souls ! — call Soul : 

Certes is was not Body ; he was well 
Proportion'd as a poplar or a pole — 

A handsome man, that human miracle ; 
And in each circumstance of Love or War 
Had still preserved his Perpendicular. 

ilObe, — Shakspeare. 

If I prove her haggard, 
Tho' that her jesses were my dear heart-strings, 
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind 
To prey at Fortune. 

I had rather be a Toad, 
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, 
Than keep a Corner in the thing I love, 
For others' use. 


ILobe. — Shakspeare. 
SHE, that hath a Heart of that fine frame, 
To pay this debt of Love but to a Brother, 
How will she love, when tbe rich golden shaft 
Hath kill'd the flock of all Affections else 
That live in her? when Liver, Brain, and Heart, 
These sov'reign Thrones, are all supplied and filled, 
Her sweet perfections, with one self-same King ! 

?iObe. — Shakspeare. 
TTER passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure 
Love : we cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; 
they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report: 
this cannot be Cunning in her; if it be, she makes a Shower of 
Rain as well as Jove. 

Uflbe. — Byron. 
With thee all toils are sweet, each clime hath charms ; 
Earth — Sea alike — our World within our arms ! 

lUlbe* —-Byron. 

Love ! no habitant of earth thou art — 

An unseen Seraph, we believe in thee; 

A faith whose martyrs are the broken Heart : 

But never yet hath seen, nor e'er shall see, 

The naked eye, thy form, as it should be ; 

The mind hath made thee, as it peopled Heaven, 

Even with its own desiring phantasy, 
And to a thought such shape and image given, 
As haunts the unquench'd Soul — parched — wearied — 
wrung — and riven. 

1L b e. — Shakspeare. 
When Love begins to sicken and decay, 
It useth an enforced Ceremony. 

Uobe. — Shakspeare. 
HEN the Blood burns, how prodigal the soul 
Lends the Tongue vows. These blazes, Daughter, 
Giving mnre light than heat, extinct in both, 
Even in their promise as it is a making, 
You must not take for Fire. 
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence, 
Set your Intreatments at a higher rate, 
Than a command to parley. 

Uobc. — Shakspeare. 
T>ASE men, being m Love, have then a Nobility in t^cir natures 
more than is native to them. 




ILobe. — ShaJcspeare. 
As in the sweetest Bud 
The eating Canker dwells, so eating Love 
Inhabits in the finest wits of all. 

As the most forward Bud 
Is eaten by the Canker ere it blow / 
Even so by Love the young and tender Wit 
Is turn'd to Folly ; blasting in the bud, 
Losing his verdure even in the prime, 
And all the fair effects of future Hopes. 

HO be, — Milton. 
"pORSAKE me not thus, witness Heaven 

What Love sincere, and Reverence in my heart 
I bear thee, and unweeting have offended, 
Unhappily deceived ! Thy suppliant, 
I beg and clasp thy Knees ; bereave me not, 
Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, 
Thy counsel in this uttermost Distress, 
My only strength and stay : forlorn of thee, 
Whither shall I betake me, where subsist ? 

Hob?. — ShaJcspeare. 
*\TY Love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming : 

I love not less, though less the Show appear : 
That Love is merchandised, whose rich esteeming 

The owner's Tongue doth publish everywhere. 
Our Love was new, and then but in the spring, 

When I was wont to greet it with my Lays ; 
As Philomel in Summer's front doth sing, 

And stops his pipe in growth of riper days; 
Not that the Summer is less pleasant now 

Than when her mournful Hymns did hush the night, 
But that wild Music burdens every bough, 

And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. 

HO be, — Scott. 
T^HE Rose is fairest when His budding new, 

And Hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; 
The Rose is sweetest wash'd with morning Dew, 
And Love is loveliest when embalm'd in Tears. 

HO be, — Byron. 
T OVE'S a capricious power : I've known it hold 
Out through a Fever caused by its own heat; 
But be much puzzled by a Cough and Cold, 
And find a Quinsy -very hard to treat. 


Hobe« — Spenser. 
T>UT who can tell what cause had that fair Maid 

To use him so, that loved her so well ? 
Or who with blame can justly her upbraid, 

For loving not — for who can Love compel ? 
And sooth to say, it is fool-hardy thing 
Rashly to witen creatures so divine ! 
For demigods they be, and first did spring 

From Heaven, though graft in Frailness Feminine. 

UOue*— Byron. 
Man's love is of man's life a thing, a Part : 
'Tis Woman's whole Existence. 

ILobc. — ShaJcspeare. 

Heaven witness, 
I've been to you a true and humble Wife, 
At all times to your Will conformable : 
Ever in fear to kindle your Dislike, 
Yea, subject to your count'nance; glad or sorry, 
As I saw it inclined : when was the hour, 
I ever contradicted your Desire ? 
Or made it not mine too ? which of your Friends 
Have I not strove to love, although I knew 
He were mine Enemy ? what friend of mine, 
That had to him derived your Anger, did I 
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice 
He was from thence discharged. Sir, call to mind, 
That I have been your Wife, in this obedience, 
Upward of twenty years; and have been blest 
With many Children by you. If in the course 
And process of this time you can report, 
And prove it too, against mine Honour aught, 
My bond of Wedlock, or my Love and Duty 
Against your sacred person, in God's name, 
Turu me away ; and let the foul'st contempt 
Shut door upon me, and so give me up 
To th' sharpest kind of Justice. 

Uobe. — Shdkspeare. 
T OVE is full of unbefitting strains ; 

All wanton as a Child, skipping, and vain ; 
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the Eye, 
Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms, 
Varying in subjects as the Eye doth roll 
To every varied object in his Glance. 


ILobe. — Shdkspeare. 
XT AVE I lived thus long (let me speak myself, 

Since Virtue finds no friends) a Wife, a true one? 
A woman (I dare say, without Vain Glory;) 
Never yet branded with suspicion ? 
Have I, with all my full Affections, 
Loved him next Heaven, obey'd him ? 
Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him ; 
Almost forgot my Prayers to content him * 
And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well. 
Bring me a constant Woman to her husband, 
One, that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his Pleasure : 
And to that woman, when she has done most, 
Yet will I add an Honour ; a great Patience. 

Hobe. — Mrs. Tiglie. 

\^THEN Pleasure sparkles in the cup of youth, 
And the gay hours on downy wing advance, 

Oh ! then 'tis sweet to hear the lip of Truth 

Breathe the soft vows of Love, sweet to entrance 
The raptured soul by intermingling glance 

Of mutual Bliss ; sweet amid roseate bowers, 
Led by the hand of Love, to weave the dance, 

Or unmolested crop Life's fairy flowers, 

Or bask in Joy's bright sun through calm unclouded hours 

Utlbe, — SJiaJcspeare. 
Love is blind, and Lovers cannot see 
The pretty follies that themselves commit. 

Eobe* — Bryden. 

Love never fails to master what he finds, 
But works a different way in different minds : 
The Fool enlightens, and the Wise he blinds. 

HO be* — ShaJcspeare. 
(~)H, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily : 

If thou remember'st not the slightest Folly 
That ever Love did make thee run into, 
Thou hast not loved : 
Or if thou hast not sat, as I do now, 
Wearying thy hearer in thy Mistress' praise, 
Thou hast not loved : 
Or if thou hast not broke from company, 
Abruptly, as my Passion now makes me, 
Thou hast not loved. 


Hob*, — MUion. 

With thee 
Certain my resolution is to die ; 
How can I live without thee, how forego 
Thy sweet converse and Love so dearly join'd ; 
To live again in these wild woods forlorn ? 
Should God create another Eve, and I 
Another rib afford, yet loss of thee 
Would never from my Heart : no, no, I feel 
The link of nature draw me : flesh of flesh, 
Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state 
Mine never shall be parted, Bliss or Woe. 

iLobe. — Mrs. Tighe. 
AND thou, sweet sprite, whose power doth far extend, 

Smile on the mean historian of thy fame ! 
My heart in each distress and fear befriend, 
Nor ever let it feel a fiercer Flame 
Than Innocence may cherish free from blame, 
And Hope may nurse, and Sympathy may own : 

For, as thy rights I never would disclaim, 
But true Allegiance ofler'd to thy throne, 
So may I love but one, by one beloved alone. 

ILobe, — Byron. 
TF changing cheek, and scorching Vein, 

Lips taught to writhe, but not complain, 
If bursting Heart, and madd'ning brain, 
And daring deed, and vengeful Steel, 
And all that I have felt, and feel, 
Betoken Love — that love was mine. 

Ufjbe* — Shakspeare. 
HTHEN let me go, and hinder not my course : 

I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, 
And make a Pastime of each weary step, 
Till the last step has brought me to my Love 
And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil, 
A blessed Soul doth in Elysium. 

Hrjbe. — Shakspeare. 
What Passion hangs these weights upon my Tongue ? 
I cannot speak to her ; yet she urged Conference. 

llobe. — Shakspeare. 
Her virtues, graced with external Gifts, 
Do breed Love's settled passions in my heart. 
2 a2 


Hebe* — Bynm. 
'THUS Passion's fire and Woman's art 

Can turn and tame the Sterner Heart; 
From these its form and tone are ta'en, 
And what they make it, must remain, 
But break — before it bend again. 

Eobe. — Byron. 
J DEEM'D that time, I deem'd that Pride, 
Had quench'd at length my boyish Flame 
Nor knew, till seated by thy side, 
My Heart in all, save Hope, the same. 

Itobe* — Shakspeare. 
\\TE, that are true Lovers, run into strange capers ; but as all 
is mortal in Nature, so is all Nature in love mortal in Folly. 

ilobe. — Byron. 
Earth holds no other like to thee, 
Or if it doth, in vain for me. 

ILobe. — Smth. 
" T OVE covers a multitude of sins." When a Scar cannot be taken 
away, the next kind office is to hide it. — Love is never so 
blind as when it is to spy Faults. 

HO be, — Shakspeare. 
They love least, that let men know their Love. 

3Lobe* — Shakspeare. 
T LOVE your son : 

My friends were poor, but honest ; so's my Love. 
Be not offended ; for it hurts not him, 
That he is loved of me : I follow him not 
By any token of presumptuous suit : 
Nor would I have him, till I do deserve him ; 
Yet never know how that Desert should be. 
I know I love in vain, strive against Hope. 
Yet, in this captious and intenible sieve, 
I still pour in the waters of my Love, 
And lack not to lose still. 

Hub?. — Milton. 

Confirm'd then I resolve, 
Adam shall share with me in Bliss or Wo : 
So dear I love him, that with him all deaths 
I could endure, without him live no Life. 


That you may be beloved, be amiable. 

Hob?* — La Rochefoucauld. 
TNFIDELITIES ought to extinguish Love, and we should not 
be jealous, even when we have reason to be so ; it is only per- 
sons who avoid causing Jealousy who are worth being jealous of. 

11 be. — ShaJcspeare. 

GIVE Pity 
To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose 
But lend and give, where she is sure to lose ; 
That seeks not to find that her Search implies, 
But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she ties. 

Uobe. — ShaJcspeare. 

He says, he loves my Daughter; 
I think so too ; for never gazed the Moon 
Upon the water, as he'll stand and read 
As 'twere my daughter's Eyes : and, to be plain, 
I think, there is not half a Kiss to choose 
Who loves another best. 

fifjbe, — La Rochefoucauld. 
T7N VY is destroyed by true Friendship, and Coquetry by true 

?iobc. — ShaJcspeare. 
CWEET, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid 

Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, 
And, like a Dewdrop from the Lion's mane, 
Be shook to air. 

Uobe. — Addison. 
r PHE intelligence of Affection is carried on by the Eye only, 
good-breeding has made the Tongue falsify the heart, and act 
a part of continued restraint, while nature has preserved the Eyes 
to herself, that she may not be disguised or misrepresented. 

HO be, — ShaJcspeare. 
T OVE is a smoke raised with the fume of Sighs: 
Being purged, a Fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; 
Being vext, a Sea nourish'd with lovers' tears; 
What is it else ? a Madness most discreet, 
A choking Gall, and a preserving Sweet. 

Hebe.— OreviUe. 
AS Love will often make a Wise man act like a Fool, so will 
Interest often make a Fool act like a Wise man. 


ILabt. — Bulwer. 
'THERE is so little to redeem the dry mass of Follies and Errors 
from which the materials of this Life are composed, that any 
thing to love or to reverence becomes, as it were, the Sabbath for 
the mind. 

Unbe. — Tucker. 
T~ OVE, peculiarly so called, must always centre in a single ob- 
ject, because that thorough coincidence of interests and par- 
ticipation of pleasures necessary to render it perfect, cannot obtain 
between more than two persons. Friendship may take in a little 
larger compass, but can extend only to a few chosen objects; the 
friendships recorded in history have always run in pairs, as between 
Theseus and Pirithous, Orestes and Pylades, Scipio and Lelius, 
Cicero and Atticus. 

ILcbe. — Shakspeare. 
Oh, 'tis the curse in Love, and still approved, 
When Women cannot love where they're beloved 

Hob?. — Shakspeare. 

Too light winning 
Makes the Prize light. 

HO be. — Byron. 
!E cold in Clime are cold in Blood, 
And love as scarce deserves the name; 
But mine is like the Lava flood 

That burns in Etna's breast of Flame. 

?i.0be. — Terence. 
TF indeed you can keep to your Resolution, you will act a noble 
and a manly part : but if, when you have set about it, your 
Courage fails you, and you make a voluntary Submission, acknow- 
ledging the violence of your Passion, and your inability to hold 
out any longer, all is over with you; you are undone, and may go 
hang yourself; she will insult over you, when she finds you her 

Hub?. — Greville. 
HPHE poets judged like Philosophers, when they feigned Love to 
be Blind; how often do we see in a Woman what our judg- 
ment and taste approve, and yet feel nothing toward her; how 
often what they both condemn, and yet feel a great deal ! 

?1 b C. — Sh akspeare. 
She stripp'd it from her arm ; I see her yet ; 
Her pretty Action did outsell her gift, 
And yet enrich' d it too. 



HO be. — Shakspeare. 
T/'IND is my Love to-day, to-morrow kind, 

Still constant in a wondrous Excellence ; 
Fair, Kind, and True, have often lived alone, 
Which three, till now, never kept seat in one. 

1L b $ . — Shakspea re. 
Men's vows are women's Traitors ! 

3Ldbe. — Shakspeare. 
There's beggary in the Love that can be reckon'd. 

Uobe. — Greville. 
C^x\SUAL disagreements have been considered as springs that 
give new force to Love ; and I believe they are so ; yet as a 
spring too frequently or too forcibly used, remains at the place to 
which it is drawn back instead of flying forward; so Lovers will 
find, that disagreements, if they are too frequent, will at length 
lose their Elasticity and impel to Love no more. 

HfJ be. — Shakspeare. 

I will be gone : 
My being here it is, that keeps thee hence : 
Shall I stay here? No, no, although 
The air of Paradise did fan the house, 
And Angels oflBced all. 

Hobe. — Shakspeare. 

Lovers break not hours, 
Unless it be to come before their time; 
So much they spur their Expedition. 

ilObe. — Terence. 
TT is possible that a man can be so changed by Love, that one 
could not recognise him to be the same person. 

Hobe. — Shakspeare. 

Admired Miranda! 
Indeed, the top of Admiration ; worth 
What's dearest to the world ! full many a Lady 
I've eyed with best regard, and many a time 
Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage 
Brought my too diligent Ear; for several virtues 
Have I liked sev'ral Women, never any 
With so full soul, but some defect in her 
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, 
And put it to the foil. But you, you, 
So perfect, and so peerless, are created 
Of every Creature's best. 


yLobt. — Colton. 
T'HE plainest man that can convince a Woman that he is reaky 
in Love with her, has done more to make her in Love with 
him than the handsomest man, if he can produce no such convic- 
tion. For the Love of Woman is a shoot, not a seed, and flourishes 
most vigorously only when ingrafted on that Love which is rooted 
in the breast of another. 

ilobe. — Shakspeare. 
To be wise, and Love, 
Exceeds Man's might. 

Hobe*— Hume. 

T\^HEN a person is once heartily in Love, the little faults and 
caprices of his Mistress, the jealousies and quarrels to which 
that Commerce is so subject, however unpleasant they be, and 
rather connected with Anger and Hatred, are yet to be found, in 
many instances, to give additional force to the prevailing Passion. 

Hob?. — Middleton. 
The treasures of the deep are not so precious 
As are the conceal'd Comforts of a man 
Lock'd up in Woman's Love. 

ILobtf. — SJiakspeare. 
Wish chastely, and love dearly. 

HO be. — Laberius. 
r FO be in Love, and at the same time to act wisely, is scarcely 
within the Power of a god. 

3Lobe. — Shakspeare. 
T)TDST thou but know the inly touch of Love, 

Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow, 
As seek to quench the fire of Love with words. 
I do not seek to quench your Love's hot fire, 
But qualify the Fire's extreme rage, 
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. 
The more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns ; 
The current that with gentle murmur glides, 
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; 
But, when his fair course is not hinder'd, 
He makes sweet Music with the enamell'd stones, 
Giving a gentle Kiss to every sedge 
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; 
And so by many winding nooks he strays, 
With willing sport, to the wild Ocean. 


Hobe. — Erasmus. 
TOVE, that has nothing but Beauty to keep it in good health, is 

Hobe.— Burton. 
"V"0 Cord or Cable can draw so forcibly, or bind so fast, as Love 
can do with only a single Thread. 

llO be. — Shakspeare. 
The expedition of my violent Love 
Out-ran the pauser Reason. 

Uobe. — La Fontaine. 
C\ LOVE, when thou gettest Dominion over us, we may bid good- 
by to Prudence. 

Uobe. — Milton. 
Smiles from reason flow, to Brutes denied, 
And are of Love the food. 

ILO be. — Shakspeare. 
Bashful sincerity, and comely Love. 

Hebe. — Goldsmith. 
T OVE, when founded in the Heart, will show itself in a thousand 
unpremeditated sallies of Fondness; but every cool deliberate 
exhibition of the Passions only argues little understanding or great 

Hobe. — Fuller. 
A FFECTIONS, like the Conscience, are rather to be led than 
drawn ; and 'tis to be feared, they that marry where they do not 
love, will love where they do not marry. 

llobe. — Shakspeare. 
C\ SPIRIT of Love, how quick and fresh art thou ! 

That, notwithstanding thy capacity, 
Receiveth as the Sea, naught enters there, 
Of what validity and pitch soe'er, 
But falls into abatement and low price, 
Even in a minute ! so full of Shapes is Fancy 
That it alone is high-fantastical. 

Hobe. — Dry den. 
1 ET Grace and Goodness be the principal loadstone of thy Affec- 
tions. For Love which hath ends, will have an end ; whereas 
that which is founded on true Virtue, will always continue. 

HO be. — Shakspeare. 
Let me but bear your Love, I'll bear your Cares 



JT is as false to play with Fire as to dally with Gallantry. Love 
is a passion that hath friends in the garrison, and for that reason 
must by a Woman be kept, at such a distance, that she may not 
be within the danger of doing the most usual thing in the world, 
which is conspiring against herself: else the humble Gallant, 
who is only admitted as a trophy, very often becometh the con- 
queror; he putteth on the style of Victory, and from an admirer 
groweth into a Master, for so he may be called from the moment 
he is in possession. 

Hobe. — Shakspeare. 
T)OUBT thou, the stars are Fire ; 

Doubt, that the Sun doth move : 
Doubt Truth to be a Liar ; 

But never doubt, I love. 


HO UC. — Valerius Maximus. 
THERE there exists the most ardent and true Love, it is often 
better to be united in Death than separated in Life. 

3L0 be* — Mrs. Cowley. 
'THE woman that has not touched the Heart of a man, before he 
leads her to the Altar, has scarcely a chance to charm it, when 
Possession and Security turn their powerful arms against her. 

HO be. — Colton. 
QORPOREAL charms may indeed gain admirers, but there must 
be mental ones to retain them ) and Horace had a delicate 
feeling of this, when he refused to restrict the Pleasures of the 
Lover merely to his eyes, but added also those of the Ear. 
Qui sedens identidem, te 
Spectat et audit I 

%ffot. — Plautus. 
~V\THERE Love has once obtained influence, any Seasoning, I 
believe, will please. 

Hobe. — Shakspeare. 

My Love is thaw'd ; 
Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a Fire, 
Bears no impression of the thing it was. 

Hobe. — Slienstone. 
T OVE can be founded upon Nature only, or the appearance of it, 
for this reason \ however a peruke may tend to soften the 
human features, it can very seldom make amends for the mixture 
of Artifice which it discovers. 



3Ldbe» — Shakspeare. 
Dost thou love Pictures ? we will fetch thee strait 
Adonis, painted by a running brook ; 
And Citherea all in sedges hid ; 
Which seem to move, and wanton with her Breath, 
Ev'n as the waving Sedges play with wind. 

it be, - - Lavater. 
T OVE sees what no eye sees ; Love hears what no ear hears ; 
and what never rose in the heart of man Love prepares for its 

?i.0be. — Shakspeare. 
She bids you, 
All on the wanton Rushes lay you down, 
And rest your gentle Head upon her lap, 
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you, 
And on your eyelids crown the (rod of sleep, 
Charming your Blood with pleasing heaviness; 
Making such difference betwixt wake and sleep, 
As is the difference betwixt day and night, 
The hour before the heavenly-harness' d team 
Begins his Golden progress in the east. 

Uube. — La Brinjere. 
T1TE never love heartily but once, and that is the first time we 
love. Succeeding inclinations are less involuntary. 

!4rbe*— Cotton. 

TT is a dangerous experiment to call in Gratitude as an ally to 
Love. Love is a debt, which inclination always pays, obliga- 
tion never; and the moment it becomes luke-warm and evanescent, 
reminiscences on the score of Gratitude serve only to smother the 

itobc, — Shakspeare. 

It were all one 
That I should love a bright particular Star, 
And think to wed it; he is so above me : 
In his bright Radiance and collateral light 
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 
Th' ambition in my Love thus plagues itself; 
The hind, that would be mated by the Lion, 
Must die for Love. 

II be, — Colton. 
T OVE is an alliance of Friendship and of Lust; if the former 
predominate, it is a Passion exalted and refined, but if the 
latter, gross and sensual. 



llfibe.— Addison. 
T>IDICULE, perhaps, is a better expedient against Love, than 
sober advice; and I am of opinion, that Hudibras and Don 
Quixote may be as effectual to cure the extravagancies of this 
Passion, as any one of the old philosophers. 

Hob**— Shakspeare. 

TF music be the food of Love, play on ; 
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, 

The appetite may sicken, and so die. 

That strain again ; it had a dying fall : 
Oh, it came o'er my Ear like the sweet south 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing and giving Odour. 

ILobc. — Shakspeare. 
Tell this youth what 'tis to Love. — 
It is to be all made of Sighs and Tears ; • 
It is to be all made of Faith and Service : — 
It is to be all made of Fantasy, 
All made of Passion, and all made of wishes; 
All Adoration, Duty, and Observance, 
All Humbleness, all Patience, and Impatience, 
All Purity, all Trial, all Observance. 

ILobe. — Addison. 
'THE pleasantest part of a man's life is generally that which 
passes in Courtship, provided his Passion be sincere, and the 
party beloved kind with Discretion. Love, Desire, Hope, all the 
pleasing motions of the Soul, rise in the pursuit. 

2Lobc. — Hawhesivorth. 
A S Love without Esteem is volatile and capricious ; Esteem 
without Love is languid and cold. 

Edbe. — Shakspeare. 

Love is like a Child, 
That longs for every thing that he can come by. 

Itobe. — Shakspeare. 
Leave you your power to draw, 
And I shall have no Power to follow you. 

HO be. — Shakspeare. 
TF ever (as that ever may be near) 

You meet in some fresh cheek the power of Fancy, 
Then shall you know the Wounds invisible 
That Love's keen Arrows make. 


Hobe. _ Sir Philip Sidney. 
'TRUE Love can no more be diminished by showers of evil than 
Flowers are marred by timely Rains. 

HO be, — Euripides. 
That Love alone, which Virtue's laws control, 
Deserves reception in the human Soul. 

Hdbe. — Terence. 

A LL these inconveniences are incidents to Love : Reproaches, 

Jealousies, Quarrels, Reconcilements, War, and then Peace. 

HO be. — Colton. 
T OVE may exist without Jealousy, although this is rare; but 
Jealousy may exist without Love, and this is common. 

Hobe.— Shakspeare. 

you leaden messengers, 
That ride upon the violent speed of Fire, 
Fly with false aim : move the still-piercing air, 
That sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord ! 

Hobe. — La Rochefoucauld. 
\\ r E always dread the sight of the person we Love when we 
have been coquetting elsewhere. 

IlO be. — Shakspeare. 

Time, Force, and Death, 
Do to this body what extremes you can : 
But the strong base and building of my Love 
Is as the very centre of the Earth, 
Drawing all things to it. 

HO be. — Shakspeare. 
T LEAVE myself, my friends, and all for Love. 

Thou, thou hast metamorphosed me; 
Made me neglect my Studies, lose my time, 
War with good Counsel, set the world at naught ; 
Made wit with musing weak ; Heart sick with thought. 

H b e ♦ — La Rochefoucauld. 
A MAN of sense may Love like a Madman, but never like a 


Hobe. — Shakspeare. 
How silver-sweet sound Lovers' tongues by night, 
Like softest music to attending ears ! 


?i0be. — Shakspeare. 
X HAVE done penance for contemning Love; 

Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me 
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans; 
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs. 
For, in revenge of my contempt of Love, 
Love hath chased Sleep from my enthralled Eyes, 
And made them watchers of mine own Heart's Sorrow. 
gentle Protheus, Love's a mighty lord; 
And hath so humbled me, as I confess, 
There is no wo to his correction ; 
Nor to his service, no such Joy on earth. 
Now no discourse, except it be of Love ; 
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep 
Upon the very naked name of Love. 

3Lobe. — La Relne de Navarre. 
TT is said that Jealousy is Love, but I deny it; for though 
Jealousy be produced by Love, as Ashes are by Fire, yet Jea- 
lousy extinguishes Love as Ashes smother the Flame. 

ILobe* — La Rochefoucauld. 
In Jealousy there is more self-love than Love. 

Uobe. — Sterne. 
TT is sweet to feel by what fine-spun threads our Affections are 
drawn together. 

ILobc. — Shakspeare. 
The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd 
Up in my Heart; which I have given already, 
But not deliver'd. 

Uobe. — Shakspeare. 
We cannot fight for Love, as men may do ; 
We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo. 

3Lobe* — La Rochefoucauld. 
A LL the Passions make us commit faults, but Love makes us 
commit the most ridiculous ones. 

Itdbe. — Goethe. 
Hate makes us vehement partisans, but Love still more so. 

3!cbe. — Shakspeare. 
Will creep in Service where it cannot go. 

Hob?. — La Rochefoucauld. 
We forgive so long as we love. 


iLobc. — ShaJcspeare. 
HARD-BELIEVING Love ! how strange it seems 

Not to believe, and jet too credulous ! 
Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes. 
Despair and Hope make thee Ridiculous ! 
The one doth natter thee, in thoughts unlikely, 
With likely Thoughts, the other kills thee quickly. 

Uobe. — La Rochefoucauld. 
TPIE pleasure of Love is in loving. We are happier in the 
Passion we feel than in that we excite. 

Uobe. — Slidkspeare. 

If the measure of thy Joy 
Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more 
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy Breath 
This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue 
Unfold the imagined Happiness, that both 
Receive in either by this dear encounter. 

lL0ue. — ShaJcspeare. 

Oh my soul's joy ! 
If after every Tempest come such calms, 
May the wind blow till they have waken'd Death ! 
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, 
Olympus-high ; and duck again as low 
As Hell's from Heaven ! If it were now to die, 
'Twere now to be most happy ) for, I fear, 
My soul hath her content so absolute, 
That not another Comfort like to this 
Succeeds in unknown fate. 

Ho be — ffadm. 

TT makes us proud when our love of a mistress is returned ; it 
ought to make us prouder still when we can love her for herself 
alone, without the aid of any such selfish reflection. This is the 
Religion of Love. 

HO be. — Shakspeare. 
TF thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully : 

Or if you think I am too quickly won, 
Fll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay, 
So thou wilt woo : but, else, not for the World. 

?Lobc. — La Rochefoucauld. 
JT is difficult to define Love. All that we can say of it is, that 
in the Soul it is a passion for reigning ; in Minds it is a sym- 
pathy; and in the Body it is nothing but a "latent ana delicate 
Desire to possess the loved object. 



Itobc La Rochefoucauld. 

T OVE, like Fire, cannot subsist without continual movement; 
as soon as it ceases to hope and fear, it ceases to exist. 

Ucbe.— Eazlitt. 
It is better to desire than to enjoy, to love than to be loved. 

Hobe. — SJiakspeare. 
HPHE course of true Love never did run smooth ; 

But, either, it was different in Blood — 
Or else misgraffed, in respect of Years — 
Or else it stood upon the choice of Friends — 
Or if there were a sympathy in choice, 
War, Death, or Sickness did lay siege to it ; 
Making it momentary as a sound, 
Swift as a Shadow, short as any Dream, 
Brief as the lightning in the collied night, 
That (in a spleen) unfolds both Heav'n and Earth ; 
And ere a man hath power to say, Behold ! 
The jaws of Darkness do devour it up; 
So quick bright things come to confusion. 

Hob?. — La Rochefoucauld. 
'THERE is no Disguise which can long conceal Love where it 
does, or feign where it does not, exist. 

itfto*— JeanTM, 

T^RIENDSHIP requires Actions : Love requires not so much 
proofs, as Expressions of Love. Love demands little else than 
the power to feel and to requite Love. 

Eobe. — ShaJcspeare. 

Love is not Love, 
Which alters when it alteration finds ; 

Or bends, with the remover to remove : 
Oh no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, 

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; 
It is the Star to every wandering bark, 

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy Lips and Cheeks 

Within his bending sickle's compass come : 
Love alters not with his brief Hours and Weeks, 

But bears it out even to the edge of Doom. 

2Lcbc. — La Rochefoucauld. 
TT is with true Love as with Apparitions. Every one talks of it, 
but few have ever seen it. 


?Lobe. — Anon. 
A LL tatlers delight in getting hold of any thing akin to a Love 
Story ; not merely from a fondness for scandal, but because 
the most powerful and pleasurable of human Feelings is in some 
measure awakened and excited thereby. 

ILobe. — ShaJcspeare. 
Bind up those tresses ; Oh, what Love I note 
Tn the fair multitude of those her hairs ; 
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fall'n, 
Even to that drop ten thousand wiery Friends 
Do glew themselves in sociable Grief; 
Like true, inseparable, faithful Loves, 
Sticking together in Calamity. 

Hobe. — ShaJcspeare. 
F SWEAR to thee by Cupid's strongest bow ; 

By his best Arrow with the golden head, 
By the simplicity of Venus' doves, 
By that, which knitteth Souls, and prospers Loves; 
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queen, 
When the false Trojan under sail was seen; 
By all the Vows that ever men have broke, 
In number more than ever Women spoke ; 
In that same place thou hast appointed me, 
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. 

HO be. — ShaJcspeare. 
QH, how this spring of Love resembleth 
The uncertain glory of an April day ; 
Which now shows all the beauty of the Sun, 
And by and by a Cloud takes all away. 

3Lobc. — La RocJiefoucauld. 
1VTEN are almost equally difficult to satisfy, when they have very 
much Love, and when they have scarcely any left. 

HO be. — Byron. 
In her first passion woman loves her Lover, 
In all the others what she loves, is Love. 

Hobe. — SJiakspeare. 
Farewell; one Eye yet looks on thee, 

But with my heart the other Eye doth see. 

Ah, poor our sex ! this fault in us I find, 
The error of our Eye directs our mind. 
What error leads, must err ; Oh then conclude, 
Minds sway'd by Eyes are full of turpitude. 


Eobe. — Shakspeare. 
Love's heralds should be thoughts, 
"Which ten times faster glide than the Sun's beams, 
Driving back Shadows over Wring hills : 
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd Doves draw Love, 
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. 

ILobe. — Ovid. 
T ET him who does not choose to be considered a lazy Fellow 
fall in Love. 

3i.0be* — La Rochefoucauld. 
"V^TOMEN often fancy themselves in Love even when they are 
not. The occupation of an Intrigue, the emotion of mind 
which Gallantry produces, the natural leaning to the pleasure of 
being loved, and the pain of refusing, persuade them that they 
feel the passion of Love, when in reality they feel nothing but 

HO b$. — Shakspeare. 
Love like a Shadow flies, when substance Love pursues; 
Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues. 

Hota—- Shakspeare, 

HTHINGS base and vile, holding no quantity, 

Love can transpose to form and Dignity. 
Love looks not with the Eyes, but with the mind ; 
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind ; 
Nor hath Love's mind of any Judgment taste ; 
"Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy Haste : 
And therefore is Love said to be a child, 
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. 
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, 
So the boy Love is perjured everywhere. 

ILobtf. — La Rochefoucauld. 
TT is impossible to love a second time what we have once really 
ceased to love. 

HO be. — Colton. 
"pMENDSHIP often ends in Love; but Love, in Friendship — 

?Lob£. — Shakspeare. 
TELL me, where is Fancy bred, 

Or in the Heart, or in the Head ? 
How begot, how nourished ? 
It is engender' d in the eyes, 
With gazing fed ; and Fancy dies 
In the Cradle where it lies. 


11 be, — Shalcspeare. 
They do not love, that do not show their Love. 

ft be, — Cotton. 
A GE and Love associate not : if they are ever allied, the firmer the 
Friendship, the more fatal is its termination ; and an old man, 
like a Spider, can never make Love, without beating his own death- 

ILobe, — Cotton. 
T OVE is an alchymist that can transmute Poison into food — and 
a Spaniel, that prefers even Punishment from one hand, to 
caresses from another. But it is in Love, as in War, we are often 
more indebted for our success to the weakness of the defence, than 
to the energy of the attack ; for mere Idleness has ruined more 
women than Passion, Vanity more than Idleness, and Credulity 
more than either. 

?idbe. — Stialcspcare. 
f\ MOST potential Love ! vow, bond, nor space, 
In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, 
For thou art all, and all things else are thine. 

When thou impressest, what are Precepts worth 
Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame, 
How coldly those impediments stand forth 
Of Wealth, of filial Fear, Law, Kindred, Fame ? 
Love's arms are Peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense, 'gainst 

shame ; 
And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears, 
The Aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears. 

Eube*— Byron. 
r)UIlS too the Glance none saw beside ; 

The Smile none else might understand ; 
The whisper' d Thought of hearts allied, 
The pressure of the thrilling hand. 

Uobe. — Moore. 
'THE time I've lost in wooing, 
In watchiDg and pursuing 

The Light, that lies 

In woman's Eyes, 
Has been my Heart's undoing. 
Tho' Wisdom oft has sought me, 
I scorn'd the Love she brought me, 

My only books 

Were woman's looks, 
And Folly's all they've taught me. 


Uobe* — Moore. 
T COULD have loved you — oh so well -, — 
The dream, that wishing boyhood knows, 
Is but a bright, beguiling Spell, 

Which only lives, while Passion glows : 
But, when this early flush declines, 

When the Heart's vivid morning fleets, 
You know not then how close it twines 

Round the first kindred soul it meets ! 
Yes, yes, I could have loved, as one 

Who, while his youth's enchantments fall, 
Finds something dear to rest upon, 
Which pays him for the Loss of all ! 
HClbe. — Shakspeare. 
Love's counsellors should fill the bores of hearing, 
To the smothering of the Sense. 

HO be. — Shakspeare. 
Violent delights have violent ends, 
And in their Triumph die ; like fire and powder, 
Which, as they kiss, consume : the sweetest Honey 
Is loathsome in his own Deliciousness, 
And in the taste confounds the appetite : 
Therefore, love moderately ; long Love doth so, 
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. 

3Lobe. — Byron. 
THEN there were Sighs the deeper for suppression, 

And stolen Glances, sweeter for the theft, 
And burning Blushes, though for no transgression, 
Trembling, when met, and restlessness when left. 

ILcbtf. — Moore. 
A LAS — how light a cause may move 

Dissension between Hearts that love ! 
Hearts that the world in vain had tried, 
And sorrow but more closely tied; 
That stood the Storm, when waves were rough, 
Yet in a sunny hour fall off, 
Like ships that have gone down at sea, 
When Heaven was all tranquillity. 

ILobe* — Prior. 
Love, well thou know'st no partnership allows : 
Cupid averse rejects divided Vows. 

Hcb£. — Byron. 
To me she gave her Heart, that all 
Which Tyranny can ne'er enthrall. 


Uobe. — Byron. 

XTOR was all Love shut from him, though his days 
Of passion had consumed themselves to dust. 

It is in vain that we would coldly gaze 

On such that smile upon us; the Heart must 
Leap kindly back to kindness, though disgust 

Hath wean'd it from all worldlings : thus he felt ; 
For there was soft Remembrance, and sweet trust, 

In one fond Breast, to which his own would melt, 

And in its tenderer hour on that his Bosom dwelt. 

Hob**— Byron. 

"ftf ONE are all evil — quickening round his heart, 

One softer feeling would not yet depart ; 
Oft could he sneer at others as beguiled 
By Passions worthy of a fool or child; 
Yet 'gainst that passion vainly still he strove. 
And even in him it asks the name of Love ! 
Yes, it was Love — unchangeable — unchanged, 
Felt but for one from whom he never ranged ; 
Though fairest captives daily met his eye, 
He shunn'd, not sought, but coldly pass'd them by ; 
Though many a Beauty droop'd in prison'd bower, 
None ever sooth'd his most unguarded hour. 
Yes — it was Love — if thoughts of tenderness, 
Tried in temptation strengthened by distress, 
Unmoved by Absence, firm in every clime, 
And yet — Oh more than all ! untired by time ; 
Which nor defeated hope, nor baffled wile, 
Could render sullen were she near to smile ; 
Nor rage could fire, nor sickness fret to vent 
On her one murmur of his discontent ; 
Which still would meet with joy, with calmness part, 
Lest that his look of grief should reach her heart ; 
Which naught removed, nor menaced to remove — • 
If there be Love in mortals — this was Love ! 

Ho be, — Higgons. 
T OVE is that passion which refines the Soul ; 

First made men Heroes, and those heroes Gods; 
Its genial fires inform the sluggish mass ; 
The rugged soften, and the tim'rous warm ; 
Gives wit to Fools, and manners to the Clown : 
The rest of life is an ignoble calm ; 
The soul unmoved by Love's inspiring breath, 
Like lazy waters stagnates and corrupts. 


yLtiKZ. — Dryden. 
T FIND she loves him much because she hides it. 

Love teaches cunning even to Innocence ; 
And where he gets possession, his first work 
Is to dig deep within a Heart, and there 
Lie hid, and like a Miser in the dark, 
To feast alone. 

'THERE is no satiety of Love in thee ; 

Enjoy'd, thou still art new : Perpetual spring 
Is in thy arms ; the ripen'd Fruit but falls, 
And blossoms rise to fill its empty place, 
And I grow rich by giving. 

Hobe. — Otway. 
T HAD so fix'd my Heart upon her, 

That wheresoe'er I framed a scheme of life 
For time to come, she was my only joy, 
With which I used to sweeten future cares : 
I fancied Pleasures, none but one who loves 
And doats as I did, can imagine like them. 

Uobe, —Dryden. 
T OVE gives Esteem, and then he gives Desert; 

He either finds equality, or makes it : 
Like Death, he knows no difference in degrees, 
But planes and levels all. 

Hobe. — Addison. 
T OVE is not to be reason' d down, or lost 

In high Ambition, or a thirst of Greatness : 
'Tis second life, it grows into the soul. 
Warms every vein, and beats in every pulse : 
I feel it here : my Resolution melts. 

flobe. — Addison. 
When Love's well-timed, 'tis not a fault to love : 
The Strong, the Brave) the Virtuous, and the Wise, 
Sink in the soft captivity together. 

Eobe» —Milton. 
TN loving thou dost well, in passion not, 

Wherein true Love consists not ; Love refines 
The thoughts, and Heart enlarges, hath its seat 
In Reason, and is judicious, is the scale 
By which to Heavenly love thou may'st ascend, 
Not sunk in carnal Pleasure, for which cause 
Among the beasts no mate for thee was found. 


IrObe.— Byron. 

All the stars of Heaven, 
The deep blue noon of night, lit by an orb 
Which looks a spirit, or a spirit's world — 
The hues of Twilight — the sun's gorgeous coming — 
His setting indescribable, which fills 
My eyes with pleasant tears as I behold 
Him sink, and feel my heart float softly with him 
Along the western paradise of clouds — 
The forest shade — the green bough — the bird's voice, 
The vesper bird's, which seems to sing of love, 
And mingles with the song of Cherubim, 
As the day closes over Eden's walls ; — 
All these are nothing, to my eyes and Heart 

Like 's face : I turn from Earth to Heaven 

To gaze on it. 

?L0be.— Young. 
r\H the soft commerce ! Oh the tender ties, 
Close-twisted with the fibres of the heart ! 
Which, broken, break them \ and drain ofi" the Soul 
Of human Joy; and make it pain to live — 
And is it then to live ? when such Friends part, 
'Tis the survivor dies. 

IlO be.— Mrs. Tight. 

(~)H, who art thou who darest of Love complain? 
He is a gentle Spirit and injures none ! 

His foes are ours ; from them the bitter Pain, 

The keen deep Anguish, the heart-rending Groan, 
Which in his milder reign are never known. 

His Fears are softer than the April showers, 
White-handed Innocence supports his throne ; 

His Sighs are sweet as breath of earliest Flowers, 

Affection guides his steps, and Peace protects his bowers. 

Hobe. — Spenser. 
"YyONDER it is to see in diverse mindes 

How diversely Love doth his pageaunts play, 
And shewes his Powre in variable kindes : 
The baser wit, whose ydle thoughts alway 
Are wont to cleave unto the lowly clay, 
It stirreth up to sensuall Desire 
And in lewd slouth to waste his carelesse day ; 
But in brave sprite it kindles goodly fire, 
That to all high Desert and Honour doth aspire 


Uobe. — Lord Lyttelton. 
None without Hope e'er loved tbe brightest fair; 
But Love can hope where Reason would despair. 

Hob*,— Byron. 

"VES, Love indeed is light from Heaven, 

A spark of that immortal fire 
With Angels shared, by Alia given, 

To lift from Earth our low desire. 
Devotion wafts the mind above, 

But Heaven itself descends in Love ; 
A feeling from the Godhead caught, 

To wean from self each sordid thought \ 
A ray of Him who form'd the whole ; 

A glory circling round the Soul ! 

Uobe. — Spenser. 

"VT AUGHT under heaven so strongly doth allure 
The sence of man and all his minde possesse, 

As Beautie's lovely baite, that doth procure 
Great Warriours oft their rigour to represse, 
And mighty hands to forget their Manlinesse, 

Drawne with the powre of an heart-robbing eye, 
And wrapt in fetters of a golden Tresse, 

That can with melting pleasaunce mollifye 

Their harden'd Hearts enured to bloud and cruelty. 

ft be, — Young. 
Art thou not dearer to my eyes than light ? 
Dost thou not circulate thro' all my veins, 
Mingle with Life, and form my very Soul ? 

Uobe.— Byron. 
C\ LOVE ! what is it in this world of ours 

Which makes it fatal to be loved ? Ah, why 
With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers, 
And made thy best interpreter a sigh ? 

ILobe* — Spenser. 

(TJ.REAT enimy to it, and to all the rest 
That in the Gardin of Adonis springs, 

Is wicked Time, who with his scyth addrest, 

Does mow the flowring herbes and goodly things, 
And all their glory to the ground downe flings, 

Where they do wither, and are fowly mard : 
He flyes about, and with his flaggy wings 

Beates downe both Leaves and Buds without regard 

Ne ever pitty may relent his Malice hard. 


?L0be. — Young. 
"\X r HO never Loved ne'er suffered ; he feels nothing, 

Who nothing feels but for himself alone ; 
And when we feel for others, Reason reels 
O'erloaded, from her path, and Man runs mad. 

Uobe. — Spenser. 
'TRUE he it said, whatever man it sayd, 

That Love with Gall and Hony doth abound ; 
But if the one be with the other wayd, 
For every dram of Hony therein found 
A pound of Gall doth over it redound. 

HO be. — Spenser. 

r THE joyes of Love, if they should ever last 
Without affliction or Disquietnesse, 

That worldly chances do among them cast, 
Would be on Earth too great a blessednesse 
Liker to Heaven than mortal wretchednesse ; 

Therefore the winged God, to let men weet 
That here on Earth is no sure happinesse, 

A thousand sowres hath tempted with one sweet, 

To make it seem more deare and dainty, as is meet. 

Uube.— Butter. 
"POR what can earth produce, but Love 

To represent the joys above ? 
Or who but lovers can converse, 
Like Angels, by the eye discourse ? 
Address and compliment by vision j 
Make Love and court by Intuition. 

Uobe. — Prior. 
f\ MIGHTY Love ! from thy unbounded power 

How shall the human bosom rest secure ? 
How shall our thought avoid the various snare ? 
Or wisdom to our caution'd Soul declare 
The different shapes thou pleasest to employ, 
When bent to hurt, and certain to destroy ? 

Uobe. — Young. 

Not all the pride of Beauty ; 
Those eyes, that tell us what the Sun is made of; 
Those lips, whose touch is to be bought with Life ; 
Those hills of driven snow, which seen are felt : 
All these possest are naught, but as they are 
The proof, the substance of an inward passion, 
And the rich plunder of a taken Heart. 


ILobe, — Young. 
TF Love were endless, Men were Gods; 'tis that 

Does counterbalance travail, danger, pain, — 
'Tis Heaven's expedient to make mortals bear 
The light, and cheat them of the peaceful Grave. 

ILobe. — Shakspeare. 
'THE more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns; 
The current, that with gentle murmur glides, 
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage ; 
But, when his fair course is not hinder'd, 
He makes sweet Music with the enamell'd stones, 
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
He overtaketh in his Pilgrimage. 

It0b$4 — Shakspeare. 
OH how this spring of Love resembleth 

The uncertain Glory of an April day ; 
Which now shows all the beauty of the Sun, 
And by and by a Cloud takes all away ! 

Hob?* — Moore. 
(")H magic of Love ! unembellish'd by you, 

Has the garden a blush or the herbage a hue ? 
Or blooms there a prospect in Nature or Art, 
Like the vista that shines through the eye to the Heart ? 

3Lobe* — Scott. 

TN peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; 
In War, he mounts the warrior's steed; 
In halls, in gay attire is seen ; 
In hamlets, dances on the green. 
Love rules the Court, the Camp, the Grove, 
And Men below, and Saints above; 
For Love is Heaven, and Heaven is Love. 

Uobe, — Scott. 

'TRUE Love's the gift which God hath given 

To man alone beneath the Heaven ! 
It is not Fantasy's hot fire, 

Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly; 
It liveth not in fierce Desire, 

With dead Desire it doth not die ; 
It is the secret Sympathy, 
The Silver link, the Silken tie, 
Which Heart to Heart, and Mind to Mind, 
In Body and in Soul can bind. 


ILobe. — Burns. 

OH happy Love ! where Love like this is found ! 
Oh heartfelt raptures ! Bliss beyond compare ! 

I've paced much this weary mortal round, 
And sage Experience bids me this declare — 
"If Heaven a draught of heavenly Pleasure spare, 

One cordial in this melancholy vale, 

'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, 

In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, 

Beneath the milk-white Thorn that scents the evening gale." 

Eobe.— Prior. 
/")H impotent estate of human life! 

Where Hope and Fear maintain eternal strife ; 
Where fleeting Joy does lasting Doubt inspire ; 
And most we question what we most desire ! 
Among thy various gifts, great Heaven, bestow 
Our cup of Love unmix'd ; forbear to throw 
Bitter ingredients in ; nor pall the draught 
With nauseous grief: for our ill-judging thought 
Hardly enjoys the pleasurable taste; 
Or deem'd it not sincere; or fears it cannot last. 

Uobe. — Byron. 
T OVE bears within its breast the very germ 

Of change ; and how should this be otherwise ? 
That violent things more quickly fiud a term 

Is shown through Nature's whole analogies : 
And how should the most fierce of all be firm ? 

Would you have endless Lightning in the skies? 
Methinks Love's very title says enough : 
How should " the tender passion" e'er be tough f 

HO be* — Spenser. 
"POR Love is a celestial Harmony 

Of likely hearts composed of stars' consent, 
Which join together in sweet Sympathy, 

To worke each other's joy and true consent, 
Which they have harbour'd since their first descent 
Out of their heavenly bowres, where they did see 
And know each other here beloved to he. 

itobc. — Joanna Baillie. 
Fain would I speak the thoughts I bear to thee, 
But they do choke and flutter in my throat, 
And make me like a Child. 



Hobf; — BuOer. 

T OVE is a fire, that burns and sparkles 

In men as nat' rally as in charcoals, 
Which sooty Chemists stop in holes 
When out of wood they extract coals : 
So Lovers should their passion choke, 
That though they burn, they may not smoke. 

Hobe. — Spenser. 
T OVE is life's End; an end but never ending; 
All joys, all sweets, all happiness, awarding ; 
Love is life's Wealth (ne'er spent, but ever spending) 
More rich by giving, taking by discarding, 
Love's Life's Reward, rewarded in rewarding : 
Then from thy wretched heart fond Care remove : 
Ah! shouldst thou live but once Love's sweets to prove, 
Thou wilt not love to live, unless thou live to love. 

iLobe. — Thomson. 
Those fond sensations, those enchanting dreams, 
Which cheat a toiling World from day to day, 
And form the whole of Happiness they know. 

ILobe, — Thomson. 
But sure, my friend, 
There is a time for Love ; or life were vile, 
A tedious circle of unjoyous days 
With senseless hurry fill'd, distasteful, wretched, 
Till Love comes smiling in, and brings his sweets, 
His healing sweets, soft cares, transporting joys, 
That make the poor account of Life complete, 
And justify the Gods. 

HO be. — Joanna Baillie. 
r)FT in the watchful post, or weary march, 

Oft in the nightly silence of my tent, 
My fixed mind shall gaze upon it still; 
But it will pass before my Fancy's eye, 
Like some delightful vision of the Soul, 
To soothe, not trouble it. 

Hobe. — Milton. 

But now lead on ; 
In me is no delay ; with thee to go 
Is to stay here ; with thee here to stay, 
Is to go hence unwilling; thou to me 
Art all things under Heaven, all places thou. 


HO be. — Thomson. 
T\THY should we kill the best of passions, Love ? 

It aids the Hero, bids Ambition rise 
To nobler heights, inspires Immortal deeds, 
Even softens brutes, and adds a Grace to Virtue. 

3L()be. — Shakspeare. 
T>UT Love, first learned in a lady's eyes, 

Lives not alone immured in the Brain : 
But with the motion of all elements, 
Courses as swift as Thought in every power ; 
And gives to every power a double power, 
Above their functions and their offices. 

irQbe,.— Swift. 

T OVE why do we one Passion call, 

When 'tis a compound of them all ? 
Where hot and cold, where sharp and sweet, 
In all their equipages meet ; 
Where Pleasures mix'd with Pains appear, 
Sorrow with Joy, and Hope with Fear. 

Eobe.— Byron. 
The war of elements no fears impart 
To Love, whose deadliest bane is Human art : 
There lie the only Rocks our course can check. 

Hobe.— Prior. 
LANTASTIC Tyrant of the amorous heart, 

How hard thy Yoke ! how cruel is thy dart I 
Those 'scape thy Anger who refuse thy sway, 
And those are punished most who most obey. 

Hobe. — Spenser. 
C1UCH is the powre of that sweet Passion, 

That it all sordid baseness doth expel, 
And the refined mind doth newly fashion 
Unto a fairer form, which now doth dwell 
In his high Thought, that would itself excel, 
Which he beholding still with constant Sight, 
Admires the Mirrour of so heavenly light. 

Uobe. — Moore. 
T\^HY, the World are all thinking about it, 

And as for myself, I can swear, 
If I fancied that Heaven were without it, 
I'd scarce feel a wish to go there. 


IrObe* — Shakspeare. 

The blood of youth burns not with such excess, 
As Gravity's revolt to Wantonness. 

ILobe* — Fri&r. 

COFT Love, spontaneous tree, its parted root 

Must from two Hearts with equal vigour shoot : 
Whilst each delighted and delighting gives 
The pleasing ecstasy which each receives \ 
Cherish' d with Hope, and fed with Joy it grows ; 
Its cheerful buds their opening bloom disclose, 
And round the happy soil diffusive odour flows. 
If angry Fate that mutual care denies, 
The fading plant bewails its due supplies ; 
Wild with Despair, or sick with Grief, it dies. 

UOue* — Mrs. Tighe. 
OH ! most adored ! Oh ! most regretted Love ! 

Oh ! joys that never must again be mine, 
And thou, lost hope, farewell — vainly I rove, 

For never shall I reach that land divine. 

Nor ever shall thy Beams celestial shine 
Again upon my sad unheeded way ! 

Oh ! let me here with Life my woes resign, 
Or in this glomy den for ever stay, 
And shun the scornful World, nor see detested day. 

ILobe* — Scott. 
TT was but with that dawning Morn 

That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn 
To drown his Love in war's wild roar, 
Nor think of Ellen Douglas more ; 
But he who stems a Stream with Sand, 
And fetters Flame with flaxen band, 
Has yet a harder task to prove — 
By firm Resolve to conquer Love ! 

Uobe, — Bijron. 

Love will find its way 
Through paths where Wolves would fear to prey, 
And if it dares enough, 'twere hard 
If passion met not some reward. 

ltd be. — Shakspeare. 
Methinks, I feel this Youth's perfections, 
With an invisible and subtle stealth, 
To creep in at mine Eyes. Well, let it be. 


HO be Spenser. 

THE gnawing Envy, the heart-fretting Fear, 

The vain surmises, the distrustful shows, 
The false reports that flying tales do bear, 

The Doubts, the dangers, the delays, the Woes, 
The feigned Friends, the unassured foes, 
With thousands more than any tongue can tell, 
Do make a Lover s life a wretch's Hell. 

Uobe. — Aaron Hill. 
THERE are, in Love, the extremes of touch'd Desire; 

The noblest brightness ! or the coarsest Fire ! 
In vulgar bosoms vulgar wishes move ; 
Nature guides choice, and as men think they love. 
In the loose Passion men profane the name, 
Mistake the purpose, and pollute the Flame : 
In nobler bosoms Friendship's form it takes, 
And sex alone the lovely difference makes. 

Hob?.— Peter Pindar. 
T7CONOMY in Love is peace to nature, 

Much like Economy in worldly matter : 
We should be prudent, never live too fast; 
Profusion will not, cannot always last. 

ILobe. — Shakspeare. 
Even in so short a space, my woman's heart 
Grossly grew captive to his Honey Words, 
And proved the subject of mine own soul's Curse 

Uobe. _ Goldsmith. 
A ND Love is still an emptier sound, 

The modern fair one's jest : 
On Earth unseen, or only found 
To warm the Turtle's nest. 

?iobe. — Shakspeare. 
T NEVER sued to Friend nor enemy; 

My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word ; 
But now thy beauty is proposed my fee, 
My proud Heart sues, and prompts my Tongue to speak 

Uobe. — Cowley. 
J^ MIGHTY Pain to Love it is, 

And 'tis a Pain that Pain to miss; 
But of all Pains, the greatest Pain 
It is to Love, and Love in vain. 


iLobe, — Thomson. • 
"INHERE lives the man (if such a man there be) 

In idle Wilderness, or Desert drear, 
To Beauty's sacred power an enemy ? 

Let foul fiends harrow him; I'll drop no tear. 
I deem that carl by Beauty's power unmoved 
Hated of Heaven, of none but Hell approved; 
Oh may he never Love, Oh never be beloved ! 

Uobe. — Dryden. 
Fool, not to know, that Love endures no tie, 
And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury. 

Uobe. — Johnson. 
nPIRED with vain Joys, and false alarms, 

With mental and corporeal Strife, 
Snatch me, my Stella, to thy arms, 
And screen me from the ills of Life. 

Uobe, — Shenstone. 
A H ! Love every Hope can inspire ; 

It banishes Wisdom the while : 
And the lip of the nymph we admire 
Seems for ever adorn'd with a Smile. 

Uobe. — Spenser. 
Ne may Love be compeld to maistery; 
Fo soone as maistery comes, sweet Love anone 
Taketh his nimble Winges, and soone away is gone. 

H(lb0. — Shakspeare. 
Love is full of unbefitting strains ; 
All wanton as a Child, skipping, and vain ; 
Form'd by the eye, and therefore like the Eye, 
Full of strange shapes, of Habits, and of forms. 

ItObtf, — Johnson. 
T ET us now, in whisper'd Joy 

Evening's silent hours employ : 
Silence best, and conscious Shades, 
Please the Hearts that Love invades ; 
Other pleasures give them pain, 
Lovers all but Love disdain. 

Itobe. — Moore. 
T OVE will never bear enslaving; 

Summer garments suit him best ; 
Bliss itself is not worth having, 
If we're by Compulsion blest. 


Uobe* — Pope. 
OH happy state ! when Souls each other draw, 

When Love is liberty, and Nature law : 
All then is full, possessing and possess' d, 
No craving void left aching in the breast : 
Even thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part, 
And each warm wish springs mutual from the Heart. 

ILobe. — Spenser. 
TTUMBLED with feare and awfull reverence, 

Before the footstoole of his Majestie 
Throwe thyselfe downe, with trembling innocence, 
Ne dare looke up with corruptible eye 
On the dread face of that great Deity, 
For feare, lest if he chance to look on thee, 
Thou turne to nought, and quite confounded be. 

UOue. — Dry den. 
Love ! thou sternly dost thy power maintain, 
And wilt not bear a Rival in thy reign, 
Tyrants and thee all fellowship disdain. 

Uobe.— Mrs. Tighe. 

"Y^THEN vex'd by cares and harass'd by distress, 

The storms of Fortune chill thy soul with dread, 

Let Love, consoling Love ! still sweetly bless, 
And his assuasive balm benignly shed : 
His downy plumage o'er thy pillow spread, 

Shall lull thy weeping Sorrows to repose ; 
To Love the tender heart hath ever fled, 

As on its mother's breast the infant throws 

Its sobbing face, and there in Sleep forgets its woes 

Unbe. _ SoutJiey. 
T OVE'S holy flame for ever burneth ; 

From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth : 
Too oft on earth a troubled guest, 
At times deceived, at times opprest, 
It here is tried and purified, 
Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest : 
It sow :th here with toil and care, 
But the harvest-time of Love is there. 

ILobe* — Moore. 
'THAT happy minglement of Hearts, 

Where, changed as chemic compounds are, 
Each with its own Existence parts, 
To find a new one, happier far ! 


ILobe. — Mrs. Tighe. 
OH, you for whom I write ! whose hearts can melt 

At the soft thrilling Voice whose power you prove, 
You know what charm unutterably felt 

Attends the unexpected voice of Love ; 

Above the Lyre, the lute's soft notes above, 
With sweet enchantment to the soul it steals, 

And bears it to Elysium's happy grove ) 
You best can tell the rapture Psyche feels 
When Love's Ambrosial Lip the vows of Hymen seals. 

Uube. — Scott. 
, Oh why should man's success remove 
The very charms that wake his Love ! 

ILobe* — Moore. 
HTO see thee every day that came, 

And find thee every day the same ; 
In Pleasure's smile or Sorrow's tear 
The same benign, consoling Dear ! 
To meet thee early, leave thee late, 
Has been so long my bliss, my fate, 
That Life, without this cheering ray, 
Which came, like Sunshine, every day, 
And all my pain, my sorrow chased, 
Is now a lone and loveless waste. 

3L0be. — Shakspeare. 
TJIS soul is so enfetter'd to her Love, 

That she may make, unmake, do what she list, 
Even as her appetite shall play the God 
With his weak function. 

Hflbe. — Byron. 

TTE who hath loved not, here would learn to Love, 
And make his Heart a spirit; he who knows 

That tender mystery, will love the more, 

For this is Love's recess, where vain men's woes 

And the world's waste, hath driven him far from those, 

For 'tis his nature to advance or die ; 

He stands not still, but or decays, or grows 

Into a boundless blessing, which may vie 

With the Immortal lights, in its Eternity ! 

Hube. — Lamb. 
Man, while he Loves, is never quite depraved, 
And Woman's triumph is a Lover saved. 


Hob**— Moore. 

OH what, while I could hear and see 

Such words and looks, was Pleaven to me ? 
Though gross the air on Earth I drew, 
'Twas blessed, while she breathed it too; 
Though dark the flowers, though dim the sky, 
Love lent them'Light, while she was nigh. 

ILobe. — Bums. 
TT warms me, it charms me, 

To mention but her Name : 
It heats me, it beets me, 
And sets me a' on flame ! 

Eobe.— Mrs. TigTie. 

(~)H ! have you never known the silent charm 
That undisturb'd Retirement yields the soul, 

Where no intruder might your peace alarm, 
And Tenderness have wept without control, 
While melting Fondness o'er the bosom stole ? 

Did Fancy never, in some lonely grove, 

Abridge the hours which must in absence roll ? 

Those pensive Pleasures did you never prove, 

Oh, you have never Loved ! you know not what is Love i 

Uobc,— Addison. 
Why dost thou frown upon me ? 
My Blood runs cold, my Heart forgets to heave, 
And Life itself goes out at thy displeasure ! 

?Uue. — Moore. 
' 'TWAS but for a moment — and yet in that time 
She crowded th' impressions of many an hour : 
Her eye had a glow, like the Sun of her clime, 
Which waked every feeling at once into Flower ! 

IL0ue> — Milton. 
CO cheer'd he his fair spouse, and she was chcer'd, 

But silently a gentle Tear let fall 
From either eve, and wiped them with her hair • 
Two other precious drops that ready stood, 
Each in their crystal sluice, he ere they fell 
Kiss'd, as the gracious signs of sweet Remorse 
And pious awe, that fear'd to have offended. 

Love is a child that talks in broken Language, 
Yet then he speaks most plain. 


ILobe*— MUon. 

T OVE, like odorous Zephyr's grateful breath, 

Repays the Flower that sweetness which it borrow'd ; 
Uninjuring, uninjured, Lovers move 
In their own sphere of happiness confest, 
By mutual Truth avoiding mutual blame. 

Hob**— Pope. 

CHOULD at my feet the world's great master fall, 

Himself, his throne, his World, I'd scorn them all : 
Not Caesar's Empress would I deign to prove ; 
No, make me Mistress to the man I love. 

BtSappohmtJ H^St.— Washington Irving. 
'THE Love of a delicate female is always shy and silent. Even 
when fortunate, she scarcely breathes it to herself; but when 
otherwise, she buries it in the recesses of her bosom, and there lets 
it cower and brood among the ruins of her peace. She is like some 
tender tree, the pride and beauty of the grove ; graceful in its form, 
bright in its foliage, but with the worm preying at its heart. We 
find it suddenly withering when it should be most fresh and luxu- 
riant. We see it drooping its branches to the earth and shedding 
leaf by leaf; until, wasted and perished away, it falls even in the 
stillness of the forest; and as we muse over the beautiful ruin, we 
strive in vain to recollect the blast or thunderbolt that could have 
smitten it with decay. 

ILOUC Of ?®lmte.— Claudian. 

'THE very leaves live but to Love, and throughout the lofty 
grove the happy trees have their amours : the Palm nodding to 
the Palm, ratifies their leagues; the Poplar sighs for the Poplar's 
embrace; and the Platanus hisses its love to the Platanus; the 
Alder to the Alder. 

ILflbe Of tfie QfiSlflttiS.— Clarendon. 

'THEY take very unprofitable pains who endeavour to persuade 
men that they are obliged wholly to despise this World and all 
that is in it, even whilst they themselves live here : God hath not 
taken all that pains in forming and framing and furnishing and 
adorning this World, that they who were made by him to live in 
it should despise it ; it will be well enough if they do not love it so 
immoderately, to prefer it before him who made it. 

IBitolg HOUe. — Shakspeare. 
I, an old Turtle, 
Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and there 
My Mate, that's never to be found again, 
Lament till I am lost. 


Uobe Of (Eounttj)- — Shakspeare. 
THIS royal Throne of Kings, this scepter'd Isle, 

This Earth of Majesty, this seat of Mars, 
This other Eden, demi-paradise; 
This Fortress, built by Nature for herself, 
Against infection, and the hand of war; 
This Happy breed of men, this little world ; 
This precious Stone set in the Silver Sea, 
Which serves it in the office of a wall, 
Or as a moat defensive to a house, 
Against the envy of less happier lands ; 
This blessed plot, this Earth, this Realm, this England, 
Dear for her Reputation through the world. 

Jcel^UOuC, — Shakspeare. 
ftlN of Self-love possesseth all mine eye, 

And all my Soul, and all my every part ; 
And for this sin there is no remedy, 
It is so grounded inward in my Heart. 
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine, 
No shape so true, no Truth of such account ; 
And for myself mine own worth do define, 
As I all other in all worths surmount. 
But when my glass shows me myself indeed, 
Beated and chopp'd with tann'd Antiquity, 
Mine own Self-love quite contrary I read, 
Self so Self-loving were Iniquity. 

ftHEoman'S Uobe, — Washington Irving. 
lyTAN is the creature of interest and ambition. His nature leads 
him forth into the struggle and bustle of the world. Love is 
but the establishment of his early life, or a song piped in the 
intervals of the acts. He seeks for fame, for fortune, for space in 
the world's thought, and dominion over his fellow-men. Bat a 
woman's whole life is a history of the affections. The heart is her 
world : it is there her ambition strives for empire; it is there her 
avarice seeks for hidden treasures. She sends forth her sympathies 
on adventure; she embarks her whole soul iu the traffic of af- 
fection ; and if shipwrecked, her case is hopeless — for it is a bank- 
ruptcy of the heart. 

ILOgaltj?. — Coicper. 
\\TE too are friends to Loyalty. We love 

The King who loves the Law ; respects his bounds, 
And reigns content within them. Him we serve 


Freely and with delight, who leaves us free. 
But recollecting still that he is Man, 
We trust him not too far. 

?lltSt — Milton. 
(JAPRICIOUS, wanton, bold, and brutal Lust, 

Is meanly selfish ; when resisted, cruel; 
And, like the blast of Pestilential Winds, 
Taints the sweet bloom of Nature's fairest forms. 

llUSt* — Spenser. 
A S pale and wan as ashes was his looke, 

His body leane and meagre as a Rake, 
And skin all wither' d like a dryed rooke ; 
Thereto as cold and drery as a Snake, 
That seem'd to tremble evermore and quake. 

EU0t. — Milton. 

But when Lust, 
By unchaste looks, loose Gestures, and foul talk, 
But most by lewd and lavish acts of Sin, 
Lets in defilement to the inward parts, 
The Soul grows clotted by contagion, 
Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose 
The divine Property of her first being. 

Hl!£t* — ShaJcspeare. 
'THE expense of spirit in a waste of Shame 

Is Lust in action ; and till action, Lust 
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, 

Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust; 
Enjoy'd no sooner, but despised straight; 

Past Reason hunted; and, no sooner had, 
Past Reason hated, as a swallowed bait, 

On purpose laid to make the taker mad : 
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; 

Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme ; 
A bliss in proof, — and proved, a very wo ; 

Before, a Joy proposed ; behind, a dream : 
All this the world well knows ; yet none knows well 
To shun the Heaven that leads men to this Hell. 

ILUSt* — ShaJcspeare. 
The flesh being proud, Desire doth fight with Grace, 
For there it revels, and when that decays, 
The guilty Rebel for remission prays. 


Ulliurg- — ShaJespeare. 

Can snore upon the Flint, when restive Sloth 
Finds the Down pillow hard. 

ImXUtg*— Johnson. 

CUCH is the Diligence with which, in countries completely 
civilized, one part of mankind labour for another, that wants 
are supplied faster than they can be formed, and the Idle and 
luxurious find Life stagnate for want of some desire to keep it in 
motion. This species of Distress furnishes a new set of occupa- 
tions; and multitudes are busied from day to day in finding the 
Rich and the Fortunate something to do. 

ILjMnCJ. — Montaigne. 
A FTER a tongue has once got the knack of Lying, 'tis not to be 
imagined how impossible almost it is to reclaim it. Whence 
it comes to pass that we see some men, who are otherwise very 
honest, so subject to this vice. 

Up lit (J.— Addison. 

Falsehood and Fraud grow up in every soil, 
The product of all climes. 

UjMttg. — From the Latin. 
'THE first step toward useful Knowledge, is to be able to detect 

?iptng. — Montaigne. 
T YING is a hateful and accursed Vice. We are not men, nor 
have other tie upon one another, but our word. If we did but 
discover the Horror and consequences of it, we should pursue it 
with Fire and Sword, and more justly than other Crimes. 

P&d3mtm.— Byron. 
CHE look'd on many a face with vacant Eye, 

On many a token without knowing what; 
She saw them watch her without asking why, 

And reck'd not who around her pillow sate; 
Not speechless though she spoke not ; not a sigh 

Relieved her thoughts ; dull silence and quick chat 
Were tried in vain by those who served ; she gave 
No sign, save breath, of having left the Grave. 

jBatmcSS.— Moore. 

This wretched brain gave way, 
And I became a Wreck, at random driven 
Without one glimpse of Reason or of Heaven. 



iftatmCSS. — Byron. 

Every sense 
Had been o'erstrung by pangs intense, 
And each frail fibre of her brain 
(As bow-strings, when relax'd by rain, 
The erring Arrow launch aside) 
Sent forth her Thoughts all wild and wide. 

Wi)Z £Ba^mt.— Danvin. 
The obedient Steel with living instinct moves, 
And veers for ever to the Pole it loves. 

&t)C iHagnet — Byron. 
That trembling vassal of the Pole, 
The feeling Compass, Navigation's soul. 

ffian. — Cotton. 
AJAN is that compound Being, created to fill that wide hiatus, 
that must otherwise have remained unoccupied, between the 
Natural world and the Spiritual; and he sympathizes with the 
one in his death, and will be associated with the other by his re- 
surrection. Without another state, it would be utterly impossible 
for him to explain the difficulties of this : possessing Earth, but 
destined for Heaven, he forms the link between two orders of 
Being, and partakes much of the grossness of the one, and some- 
what of the refinement of the other. Reason, like the magnetic 
influence imparted to iron, gives to matter properties and powers 
which it possessed not before, but without extending its bulk, 
augmenting its weight, or altering its Organization ; like that to 
which I have compared it, it is visible only by its effects, and per- 
ceptible only by its operations. Reason, superadded to Man, gives 
him peculiar and characteristic views, Responsibilities, and desti- 
nations, exalting him above all existences that are visible, but 
which perish, and associating him with those that are invisible, 
but which remain. Reason is that Homeric and golden chain 
descending from the throne of God even unto Man, uniting Heaven 
with Earth, and Earth with Heaven. For all is connected, and 
without a chasm ; from an Angel to an atom, all is proportion, 
harmony and strength. 

j^tan, — Cotton. 
IV/TAN, though individually confined to a narrow spot of this 
Globe, and limited, in his existence, to a few courses of the 
Sun, has nevertheless an Imagination which no despotism can 
control, and which, unceasingly, seeks for the Author of his 
destiny, through the immensity of space, and the ever-rolling 
current of Ages. 


{Ban.— Pascal 
"XYTHAT a chimera is Man ! what a confused Chaos ! what a 
subject of contradiction ! a professed judge of all things, and 
yet a feeble worm of the Earth ! the great depositary and guai dian 
of Truth, and yet a mere huddle of uncertainty ! the glory and the 
scandal of the Universe. 

iBan.— Byron. 
Admire, exult, — despise, — laugh, weep, — for here 
There is such matter for all feeling ; — Man ! 
Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear. 

/Han. — Tucker. 
'THERE are limits to the progress of Man's Animal Frame : it is 
stationary, it declines, and is dissolved ; but to this progress 
of Intelligence, in ascending the scale of Knowledge and of Wis- 
dom, there are not any physical limits short of the Universe itself, 
which the happy mind aspires to know, and to the order of which 
he would conform his will. The animals are qualified, by their 
organization and their instincts, for the particular Element and the 
circumstances in which they are placed, and they are not fit for any 
other ; but Man, by his intelligent powers, is qualified for any 
scene of which the circumstances may be observed and in which 
the proprieties of conduct may be understood. 

/Hail. — Shdkxpeare. 
Dare do all that may become a man : 
Who dares do more is none, is none. 

/Hatt. — Shcikspeare. 

TIS nature is too noble for the World : 

He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, 
Or Jove for his power to thunder. His Heart's his mouth : 
What his breast forges, that his Tongue must vent. 

/Hatt. — Peter Pindar. 
THE mind of Man is vastly like a hive ; 
His thoughts so busy ever — all alive ! 
But here the simile will go no further; 
For Bees are making Honey, one and all ; 
Man's thoughts are busy in producing Gall, 
Committing, as it were, Self-murther. 

j&an. — Crahbe. 
In that rock are shapes of shells, and forms 
Of creatures in old Worlds, of nameless worms, 
Whose generations lived and died ere Man, 
A worm of other class, to crawl began. 



{Ban. — Prior. 
"RUT do these worlds display their beams, or guide 
Their orbs, to serve thy use, to please thy pride ? 
Thyself but dust, thy stature but a span, 
A moment thy duration, foolish Man ! 
As well may the minutest emmet say, 
That Caucasus was raised to pave his way ; 
The snail, that Lebanon's extended wood 
Was destined only for his walk and food ; 
The vilest Cockle, gaping on the coast 
That rounds the ample seas, as well may boast, 
The craggy rock projects above the sky, 
That he in safety at its foot may lie ; 
And the whole Ocean's confluent waters swell, 
Only to quench his thirst, or move and blanch his shell. 

£Bm. — Young. 
TTOW poor, how rich, how abject, how august, 

How complicate, how wonderful, is Man ! 
How passing wonder He, who made him such ! 
Who centred in our make such strange extremes! 
From different natures marvellously mixt, 
Connexion exquisite of distant Worlds ! 
Distinguish'd link in Being's endless chain ! 
Midway from nothing to the Deity ! 
A beam ethereal, sullied, and absorped ! 
Though sullied and dishonour' d, still divine ! 
Dim miniature of greatness absolute ! 
An heir of Glory ! a frail child of dust ! 
Helpless Immortal ! Insect infinite ! 
A Worm ! a God ! 

iftatt. — Prior. 
f"JEASE, Man of woman born, to hope relief 
From daily Trouble and continued Grief; 
Thy hope of Joy deliver to the wind, 
Suppress thy passions, and prepare thy mind ; 
Free and familiar with Misfortune grow, 
Be used to Sorrow, and inured to Woe; 
By weakening toil and hoary age o'ercome, 
See thy decrease, and hasten to thy Tomb. 

M^n. — Pope. 
^OT always actions show the Man : we find 

Who does a kindness, is not therefore kind ; 
Perhaps Prosperity becalm'd his breast, 
Perhaps the wind just shifted from the east : 


Not therefore humble he who seeks retreat, 

Pride guides his steps, and bids him shun the great : 

Who combats bravely is not therefore brave, 

He dreads a Death-bed like the meanest slave : 

Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise, 

His pride in reasoning, not in acting, lies. 

iHtftt. — Bacon. 
T)EADING maketh a full Man; Conference a ready Man ; and 
Writing an exact Man. 

ffian. — Prior. 
r^ONDEMN'D to sacrifice his childish years 

To babbling Ignorance, and to empty fears ; 
To pass the riper period of his age, 
Acting his part upon a crowded stage ; 
To lasting toils exposed and endless Cares, 
To open dangers, and to secret snares ; 
To malice, which the vengeful Foe intends, 
And the more dangerous Love of seeming Friends. 

f&an. — Pojye. 
J>EHOLD the child, by Nature's kindly law 
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw ; 
Some livelier plaything gives his Youth delight, 
A little louder, but as empty quite ; 
Scarfs, Garters, Gold amuse his riper stage ; 
And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age ; 
Pleased with this Bauble still, as that before ; 
Till tired he sleeps, and Life's poor play is o'er. 

itfan, — Pope. 

CEE him from Nature rising slow to art ! 
To copy instinct then was reason's part : 
Thus then to man the voice of Nature spake — 
Go, from the creatures thy instructions take : 
Learn from the Birds what food the thickets yield; 
Learn from the Beasts the physics of the field; 
Thy arts of building from the Bee receive ; 
Learn of the Mole to plough, the Worm to weave : 
Learn of the little Nautilus to sail, 
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving Gale. 

iHtltt. — Shakspeare. 

However we do praise ourselves, 
Our Fancies are more giddy and infirm, 
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, 
Than Women's are. 


ittatt.— Young. 
"pATHER of Mercies ! why from silent earth 

Did'st thou awake, and curse me into birth? 
Tear me from quiet, ravish me from night, 
And make a thankless present of thy Light ? 
Push into being a reverse of thee, 
And animate a Clod with Misery ? 

irEtatt. — Spenser. 
GO greatest and most glorious thing on ground 

May often need the helpe of weaker hand ; 
So feeble is Man's state, and Life unsound, 
That in assurance it may never stand, 
Till it dissolved be from earthly Band. 

iHan. — Steele. 

A MAN that is Temperate, Generous, Valiant, Chaste, Faithful, 

and Honest, may, at the same time, have Wit, Humour, 

Mirth, Good-breeding, and Gallantry. While he exerts these 

latter qualities, twenty occasions might be invented to show he is 

master of the other noble Virtues. 

£Ban.— Parnell. 

T ET business vex him, Avarice blind, 

Let doubt and Knowledge rack his mind, 
Let Errour act, Opinion speak, 
And Want afflict, and Sickness break, 
And Anger burn, Dejection chill, 
And Joy distract, and Sorrow kill, 
Till arm'd by Care, and taught to mow, 
Time draws the long destructive blow. 

iHattfjOOU'. — ShaJcspeare. 
TTE is but the counterfeit of a Man, who hath not the life of a 
11 Man. 

itfanljOOtt. — Scott. 
He turn'd away — his Heart throbb'd high, 
The tear was bursting from his eye. 

JttattJjOOo'. — Scott. 
With haughty Laugh his head he turn'd, 
And dash'd away the Tear he scorn' d. 

JHanfjOOfi. — ShaJcspeare. 
I'll never 
Be such a gostling to obey instinct ; but stand, 
As if a Man we're Author of himself, 
And knew no other kin. 


j&,mntXB.— Addison. 

COMPLAISANCE renders a Superior amiable, an Equal agree- 
able, and an Inferior acceptable. It smooths distinction, 
sweetens conversation, and makes every one in the company 
pleased with himself. It produces Good Nature and mutual bene- 
volence, encourages the timorous, soothes the turbulent, humanizes 
the fierce, and distinguishes a society of civilized persons from a 
confusion of savages. 

fi& tilt n r r.S . — La Brvyere. 
A Man's worth is estimated in this world according to his Conduct. 

iHait Iters Steele. 

T TAKE it for a rule, that the natural, and not the acquired man, 
is the companion. Learning, wit, gallantry, and Good-breeding 
are all but subordinate qualities in society, and are of no value, but 
as they are subservient to Benevolence, and tend to a certain man- 
ner of being or appearing equal to the rest of the Company. 

iHatttterS. — Addison. 
THE true art of being agreeable is to appear well pleased with all 
the Company, and rather to seem well entertained with them, 
than to bring entertainment to them. A man thus disposed, per- 
haps, may have -not much Learning, nor any Witj but if he has 
Common Sense and something friendly in his behaviour, it concili- 
ates men's minds more than the brightest parts without this dispo- 
sition : it is true indeed that we should not dissemble and flatter in 
company ; but a man may be very agreeable, strictly consistent with 
Truth and Sincerity, by a prudent silence where he cannot concur, 
and a pleasing assent where he can. Now and then you meet with 
a person so exactly formed to please, that he will gain upon every 
one that hears or beholds him ; this disposition is not merely the 
gift of Nature, but frequently the effect of much Knowledge of the 
world, and a command over the Passions. 

fHantterS. — Shakspeare. 
THOSE that are Good Manners at the Court are as ridiculous in 
the Country, as the Behaviour of the Country is most mockable 
at the Court. 

iHanners. — Swift. 

TFa man makes me keep my Distance, the comfort is, he keeps 
his at the same time. 

fHannerS. — Chesterfield. 
Q.OOD-BREEDING is the result of much Good Sense, some 
Good Nature, and a little Self-denial for the sake of others, and 
with a view to obtain the same indulgence from them. 


£&mntX8. — Greville. 
Y^U will, I believe, in general ingratiate yourself with others, 
still less by paying them too much Court than too little. 

£&mntZ8. — Chesterfield. 
J^ MAN'S own Good-breeding is the best security against other 
people's Ill-manners. 

fflmttm — Addison. 

QNE may now know a man that never conversed in the world, by 
his excess of Good-breeding. A polite country Esquire shall 
make you as many bows in half an hour, as would serve a Courtier 
for a week. There is infinitely more to do about place and prece- 
dancy in a meeting of Justices' wives, than in an assembly of 

JHanttCrS.— Cumberland. 
r JpHE happy gift of being agreeable seems to consist not in one, 
but in an assemblage of Talents tending to communicate delight ; 
and how many are there, who, by easy Manners, sweetness of Tem- 
per, and a variety of other undefinable qualities, possess the power 
of pleasing without any visible effort, without the aids of Wit, Wis- 
dom, or Learning, nay, as it should seem, in their defiance; and 
this without appearing even to know that they possess it. 

m fflannm. —Addison. 
^HERE is no society or conversation to be kept up in the world 
without Good-nature, or something which must bear its appear- 
ance, and supply its place. For this reason mankind have been 
forced to invent a kind of artificial humanity, which is what we 
express by the word Good-breeding. 


Q-OOD-BREEDING shows itself most, where to an ordinary Eye 
it appears the least. 

iftaniters.— Fuller. 

TN conversation use some, but not too much Ceremony : it teaches 
others to be courteous too. Demeanours are commonly paid 
back in their own Coin. 

Jtfanners. — South. 

I" HAVE known men, grossly injured in their affairs, depart 
pleased, at least silent, only because they were injured in good 
Language, ruined in Caresses, and kissed while they were struck 
under the fifth Rib. 

i$attnet0, — Chesterfield. 
A N able man shows his spirit by gentle Words and resolute 
Actions : he is neither hot nor timid. 


/Banners.— Fuller. 

T ET thy Carriage be friendly, but not foolishly free : An unwary 
Openness causeth Contempt, but a little Reservedness, Respect; 
and handsome Courtesy, Kindness. 

/Banners.— Swift 

(^ OOD Manners is the art of making those people easy with whom 
we converse. Whoever makes the fewest persons uneasy, is 
the best bred in the Company. 

iBanners.— Hume. 

A MONG well-bred people, a mutual Deference is affected ; Con- 
tempt of others disguised ; Authority concealed ; attention given 
to each in his turn; and an easy stream of conversation maintained, 
without vehemence, without interruption, without eagerness for 
Victory, and without any airs of superiority. 

/Banners. — Goldsmith. 
(CEREMONIES are different in every country ; but true Polite- 
ness is everywhere the same. Ceremonies, which take up so 
much of our attention, are only artificial helps which Ignorance 
assumes in order to imitate Politeness, which is the result of Good 
Sense and Good Nature. A person possessed of those qualities, 
though he had never seen a Court, is truly agreeable ; and if with- 
out them, would continue a Clown, though he had been all his life 
a gentleman usher. 

/•Banners. — Chesterfield. 
QOOD-BREEDING carries along with it a Dignity that is re- 
spected by the most petulant. Ill-breeding invites and au 
thorizes the Familiarity of the most timid. 

/Banners. — steme. 

TJAIL ! ye small sweet Courtesies of life, for smooth do ye make 
the road of it, like Grace and Beauty which beget inclinations 
to love at first sight; 'tis ye who open the door and let the 
stranger in. 

/Banners. — Zimmerman. 
T)0 not think that your Learning and Genius, your Wit or 
Sprightliness, are welcome everywhere. I was once told £hat 
my Company was disagreeable because I appeared so uncommonly 

/Banners. — Swift. 

pRIDE, Ill-nature, and want of Sense, are the three great sources 
of Ill-manners; without some one of these defects, no man will 
behave himself ill for want of Experience, or what, in the language 
of fools, is called knowing the World. 




A LL Manners take a tincture from our own, 

Or come discolour'd thro' our Passions shown ; 
Or Fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies, 
Contracts, invests, and gives ten thousand dyes. 

pdimnm. — Swift. 

QNE principal point of Good-breeding is to suit our behaviour to 
the three several degrees of men j our Superiors, our Equals, 
and those below us. 

fflanVLtXS. — Sliakspeare. 
The sauce to meat is Ceremony 
(Meeting were bare without it.) 

fH aimers — Shakspeare. 
He could not 
Carry his Honours even ; whether pride, 
(Which out of daily fortune ever taints 
The happy man ;) whether defect of Judgment 
(To fail in the disposing of those chances, 
Whereof he was the Lord ;) or whether Nature, 
(Not to be other than one thing; not moving 
From th' cask to th/ cushion ; but commanding Peace 
Even with the same austerity and garb 
As he controlled the War.) 

iHanners.— Steele. 

T\TE see a world of pr \>s taken, and the best years of Life spent 
in collecting a se* *,f Thoughts in a college for the conduct 
of Life, and, after all, the man so qualified shall hesitate in his 
speech to a good suit of clothes, and want common sense before 
an agreeable Woman. Hence it is, that Wisdom, Valour, Justice, 
and Learning cannot keep a man in countenance that is possessed 
with these excellences, if he wants that inferior art of life and 
behaviour called Good-Breeding. 

Manners. — La Bruyere. 
A LTHOUGH a man may possess Virtue, Talent, and Good 
Conduct, he may nevertheless be disagreeable. There is a 
certain fashion in Manners, which is too often neglected as of no 
consequence, but which frequently becomes the basis on which 
the World will form a favourable or an unfavourable opinion of 
you ; and a little attention to render them engaging and polished, 
will prevent others from entertaining prepossessions respecting 
you, which in their consequences ma}^ operate greatly to your dis- 


iHattttCrS. — La Rochefoucauld. 
Grace is to the Body what Good Sense is to the Mind. 

f& annUS. — Fuller. 
A S the Sword of the best tempered metall is most flexible ; so 
the truly generous are most pliant and courteous in their Be- 
haviour to their inferiors. 

iHannetS. —Bishop Middleton. 
Virtue itself offends, when coupled with forbidding Manners. 

/Banners.— Coiton. 

A LWAYS suspect a man who affects great Softness of Manner, 
an unruffled Evenness of Temper, and an Enunciation studied, 
slow, and deliberate. These things are all unnatural, and bespeak 
a degree of mental discipline into which he that has no purpose of 
Craft or Design to answer, cannot submit to drill himself. The 
most successful Knaves are usually of this description, as smooth 
as Razors clipped in oil, and as sharp. They affect the innocence of 
the Dove, which they have not, in order to hide the cunning of the 
Serpent, which they have. 

/BannCCS. — Chester, -field. 
"PREPARE yourselves for the World, as the athletse used to do 
for their exercises; oil your Mind and your Manners, to give 
them the necessary suppleness and flexibility j Strength alone will 
not do. 

/Banners.— La Rochefoucauld. 
HTHERE are some persons on whom their Faults sit well, and 
others who are made ungraceful by their Good Qualities. 

/HamterS. — La Rochefoucauld. 
"^"OTHING so much prevents our being natural as the desire of 
appearing so. 

/Banners. — Greviiu. 

fJNBECOMING forwardness oftener proceeds from Ignorance 
than Impudence. 

/Banners. — Skakspeare. 
A GE cannot wither her, nor Custom stale 

Her infinite variety : Other Women cloy 
The appetites they feed ; but she makes hungry, 
Where most she satisfies. 

/Barriacje. — Skakspeare. 

The instances that second Marriage move 
Are base respects of Thrift, but none of Love. 



iHam'age. — Thomson. 
TTTITERE Friendship full exerts her softest power, 

Perfect Esteem enliven'd by Desire 
Ineffable, and Sympathy of Soul ; 
Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will, 
With boundless confidence: for naught but Love 
Can answer Love, and render bliss secure. 

£&aTtiaQt.— Fuller. 
Take the Daughter of a good Mother. 

JEtatriage,— Muton. 

TTERE Love his golden shafts employs, here lights 
His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings, 
"Reigns here and revels ; not in the bought smile 
Of Harlots, loveless, joyless, unendear'd, 
Casual fruition ; nor in Court Amours, 
Mix'd dance, or wanton mask, or midnight ball, 
Or serenade, which the starved Lover sings 
To his proud Fair, best quitted with disdain. 

damage.— Johnson. 

TVTARRIAGE is the strictest tie of perpetual Friendship, and 
there can be no Friendship without Confidence, and no Confi- 
dence without Integrity; and he must expect to be wretched, who 
pays to Beauty, Riches, or Politeness that regard which only Virtue 
and Piety can claim. 

fflaXtiaqt. — Lord Rochester. 
"fyrOTHERS who force their Daughters into interested Marriage, 
are worse than the Ammonites who sacrificed their children to 
Moloch — the latter undergoing a speedy death, the former suffering 
years of Torture, but too frequently leading to the same result 

ifclarriage* — Cowper. 

'THOU art the nurse of Virtue. In thine arms 

She smiles, appearing as in truth she is, 
Heaven-born and destined to the skies again. 
Thou art not known where Pleasure is adored, 
That reeling goddess with the zoneless waist 
And wand'ring eye, still leaning on the arm 
Of novelty, her fickle, frail support ; 
For thou art meek and constant, hating change, 
And finding in the calm of Truth-tied Love 
Joy that her stormy Raptures never yield. 

iHatriajje. — WUliam Penn. 
TV"EVER marry but for Love, but see that thou lovest what ia 


Haarriage. — Sir Walter Raleigh. 
"REMEMBER, that if thou marry for Beauty, thou bindest thy- 
self all thy Life for that which perchance will neither last nor 
please thee one year ; and when thou hast it, it will be to thee of 
no price at all ; for the Desire dicth when it is attained, and the 
Affection perisheth when it is satisfied. 

itfarriage.— Byron. 

~pEW — none — find what they love or could have loved, 

Though accident, blind contact, and the strong 
Necessity of loving, have removed 

Antipathies — but to recur, ere long, 

Envenom'd with irrevocable wrong. 

jBarriage. — Shakspeare. 

'Tis not to make me jealous 
To say — my Wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, 
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well; 
Where Virtue is, these are more virtuous : 
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw 
The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt; 
For she had Eyes, and chose me : No, 
I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove ; 
And, on the proof, there is no more but this, — 
Away at once with Love, or Jealousy. 

fHarctagc — Cowpcr. 

OH friendly to the best pursuits of man, 

Friendly to Thought, to Virtue, and to Peace, 
Domestic Life in rural leisure pass'd ! 
Few know thy value, and few taste thy sweets. 

iBarriage. — Sir Thomas Overbimj. 
AS good and wise ; so she be fit for me, 

That is, to will, and not to will the same ; 
My wife is my adopted self, and she 

As me, to what I love, must frame. 
And when by Marriage both in one concur, 
Woman converts to Man, not Man to her. 

itfarrtage.— Butler. 

~pOR Wedlock without Love, some say, 

Is but a lock without a Key ; 
It is a kind of rape to marry 
One that neglects, or cares not for ye ; 
For what does make it ravishment, 
But beins; against the Mind's consent? 


fflUXXWUt. — Addison. 

AN Idol may be undeificd by many accidental causes. Marriage* 
in particular is a kind of counter-apotheosis, or a Deification 
inverted. When a man becomes familiar with his Gi-oddess, she 
quickly sinks into a Woman. 

JHarrtage. — Coiton. 

IV/TATRIMONY is an engagement which must last the life of 
one of the parties, and there is. no retracting, vestigia nulla 
retrorsum ; therefore, to avoid all the horror of a Repentance that 
comes too late, men should thoroughly know the real causes that 
induce them to take so important a step, before they venture upon 
it : do they stand in need of a Wife, an Heiress, or a Nurse ; is it 
their Passions, their Wants, or their Infirmities, that solicit them 
to wed ? Are they candidates for that happy state, propter opus, 
opes or opem f according to the epigram. These are questions 
much more proper to be proposed before men go to the altar, than 
after it ; they are points which, well ascertained, would prevent 
many Disappointments, often deplorable, often ridiculous, always 

iftlarriage.— Justus Moser. 
T TRY to make myself and all around me agreeable. It will not 
do to leave a Man to himself till he comes to you, to take no 
pains to attract him, or to appear before him with a long face. It 
is not so difficult as you think, dear child, to behave to a Husband 
so that he shall remain for ever in some measure a Husband. I 
am an old Woman, but you can still do what you like; a word 
from you at the right time will not fail of its effect ; what need 
have you to play the suffering Virtue ? The tear of a loving Girl, 
says an old Book, is like a Dewdrop on the Rose ; but that on the 
cheek of a Wife is a drop of Poison to her Husband. Try to 
appear cheerful and contented, and your husband will be so ; and 
when you have made him happy you will become so, not in appear- 
ance, but reality. The skill required is not so great. Nothing 
natters a man so much as the happiness of his Wife : he is always 
proud of himself as the source of it. As soon as you are cheerful, 
you will be lively and alert, and every moment will afford you an 
opportunity of letting fall an agreeable word. Your Education, 
which gives you an immense advantage, will greatly assist you; 
and your sensibility will become the noblest gift that Nature has 
bestowed on you, when it shows itself in affectionate assiduity, and 
stamps on every action a soft, kind, and tender Character, instead 
of wasting itself in secret repinings. 

iHarrtagc. — odd. 

If you wish to marry suitably, marry your Equal. 


iBarCtage. — Shakspeare. 

Let still the woman take 
An elder than herself; so wears she to him, 
So sways she level in her Husband's heart. 

iHatrtage. — Skakspeare. 

As for my Wife, 
I would you had her Spirit in such another : 
The third c' the world is yours : which with a snaffle 
You may pace easy, but not such a Wife. 

Jftarriage. —Fuller. 

I N Marriage, he best bowls at the mark of his own Contentment, 
who, besides the aim of his own eye, is directed by his Father, 
who is to give him the ground. 

iHarriage, — Coiton. 

"\TARRIAGE is a feast where the Grace is sometimes better 
than the Dinner. 

fftatriage* — Rogers. 

Across the threshold led, 
And every Tear kiss'd off as soon as shed, 
His house she enters, there to be a Light 
Shining within when all without is night; 
A guardian-Angel o'er his life presiding, 
Doubling his Pleasure, and his Cares dividing ! 

ittatriage.— Fuller. 

TARRES concealed are half reconciled ; which if generally 
known, 'tis a double task, to stop the breach at home and men's 
mouths abroad. To this end, a good Husband never publicly 
reproves his Wife. An open reproof puts her to do penance 
before all that are present; after which, many study rather Revenge 
than Reformation. 

jftlatriage. — Thomson. 

What is the World to them, 
Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all ? 
Who in each other clasp whatever fair 
High Fancy forms, and lavish Hearts can wish ; 
Or on the mind, or mind-illumined face ; 
Truth, Goodness, Honour, Harmony, and Love, 
The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven. 

/Carriage.— Milton. 

Let us no more contend, nor blame 
Each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive 
Tn offices of Love, how we may lighten 
Each other's burden, in our share of Wo<?. 


itf cmtage. — Jean Paul. 
"J)OX'T put on your left stocking to-morrow morning; I must 
first mend a hole in it." "The author of this history hereby 
asserts that he has often gone nearly out of his Mind in con- 
sequence of such like feminine Interludes. It is in truth to be 
wished that the said author, in case he enter into the estate of 
Matrimony, may find a woman to whom he can read the most 
essential principles and dictata of Metaphysics and Astronomy, 
and who will not, in his most towering flights, cast up his Stock- 
ings at him. He will however be satisfied if one fall to his lot who 
has humbler merits, but who is capable of soaring with him to a 
certain height : — one on whose opened eyes and heart the flowery 
Earth and beaming Heavens strike not in infinitesimals, but in 
large and towering masses; for whom the great whole is something 
more than a Nursery or a Ball-room ; one who, with a feeling at 
once tender and discriminating, and with a Heart at once pious 
and large, for ever improves the Man whom she has wedded. 
This it is, and no more, to which the Author of this history limits 
his wishes/' 

JHamage,— Steele. 

'THE good Husband keeps his Wife in the wholesome ignorance 
of unnecessary Secrets. They will not be starved with the 
ignorance, who perchance may surfeit with the knowledge of 
weighty Counsels, too heavy for the weaker sex to bear. He 
knows little who will tell his Wife all he knows. 

Jftaruage. — Lord Lyttelton. 
"pVEN in the happiest choice, where fav'ring Heaven 

Has equal Love and easy Fortune given, — 
Think not, the Husband gain'd, that all is done ; 
The prize of Happiness must still be won : 
And, oft, the careless find it to their cost, 
The Lover in the Husband may be lost ; 
The Graces might, alone, his heart allure ; 
They and the Virtues, meeting, must secure. 

iHarttage. — Shakspeare. 
T AM ashamed, that Women are so simple 

To offer War where they should kueel for Peace; 
Or seek for Rule, Supremacy, and Sway, 
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. 

fHatriage.— From the Italian. 
'THE admiral of Castile said, that he who marries a Wife and he 
who goes to War must necessarily submit to every thing that 
may happen. 


ftlarriatJC— Anon. 
"DE sure you like the Parents of the Girl you are about to wed ; 
it is almost as essential to your future Happiness as to truly 
love the object of your wishes. 

fHarctage.— Coiton. 

'THAT alliance may be said to have a double tie, where the 
Minds are united as well as the Body, and the union will have 
all its strength, when both the links are in perfection together 

iHacriage. — Ben Jonson. 
He that would have fine Guests, let him have a fine Wife. 

iHatriage. —Prior. 

AND now your matrimonial Cupid, 

Lash'd on by Time, grows tired and stupid. 
For story and experience tell us 
That Man grows old, and woman jealous. 
Both would their little ends secure : 
He sighs for Freedom, she for Power : 
His wishes tend abroad to roam, 
And her's to domineer at home. 


'THE good Wife commandeth her Husband, in any equal matter, 
by constantly obeying him. It was always observed, that what 
the English gained of the French in battle by valour, the French 
regained of the English in cunning by treaties. So if the Husband 
should chance by his power in his passion to prejudice his Wife's 
right, she wisely knoweth, by compounding and complying, to 
recover and rectify it again. 

f&attiaqt.— Steele. 
TT is common to hear both sexes repine at their change, relate 
the Happiness of their earlier years, blame the Folly and Rash- 
ness of their own choice, and warn those whom they see coming 
into the world against the same precipitance and infatuation. But 
it is to be remembered that the days which they so much wish 
to call back, are the days not only of Celibacy but of Youth, the 
days of novelty and improvement, of ardour and of Hope, of healA 
and vigour of body, of Gayety and Lightness of Heart. It is not 
easy to surround lifr with any circumstances in which Youth will 
not be delightful; and I am afraid that whether married or un- 
married, we shall find the vestura of terrestrial Existence more 
heavy and cumbrous the longer it is worn. 


iHaUtage, — Spenser. 
~pROM that day forth, in Peace and joyous Bliss 

They lived together long without debate ; 
Ne private Jarre, ne spite of Enemies, 

Could shake the safe assurance of their state. 

ferriage. — Terence. 
TT does not appear essential that, in forming Matrimonial Al- 
liances, there should be on each side a parity of Wealth ; but 
that, in Disposition and Manners, they should be alike. Chastity 
and Modesty form the best dowry a parent can bestow. 

i^larriage.— Moore. 
gOMETHING, light as air— a look, 

A word unkind or wrongly taken — 
Oh ! Love, that tempests never shook, 

A breath, a touch like this hath shaken. 
And ruder words will soon rush in 
To spread the breach that words begin ; 
And Eyes forget the gentle ray 
They wore in Courtship's smiling day; 
And Voices lose the tone that shed 
A tenderness round all they said ; 
Till fast declining, one by one, 
The sweetnesses of Love are gone, 
And Hearts, so lately mingled, seem 
Like broken clouds, — or like the stream, 
That smiling left the Mountain's brow, 

As though its waters ne'er could sever, 
Yet, ere it reach the plain below, 

Breaks into Floods, that part for ever. 

JKatttage.— Johnson. 

A/TARRIAGE is the best state for Man in general; and every 
Man is a worse Man in proportion as he is unfit for the Mar- 
ried State. 

iftatUage*— Beattie. 
^"0 Jealousy their dawn of Love o'ercast, 

Nor blasted were their wedded days with Strife ; 
Each season look'd delightful as it past, 
* To the fond Husband and the faithful Wife. 

Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd life 
They never roam'd ! secure beneath the storm 

Which in Ambition's lofty land is rife, 
Where Peace and Love are canker'd by the worm 
Of Pride, each bud of Joy industrious to deform. 


iBarriatJC— Skalcspeare. 
A Father 

Is, at the nuptial of his Son, a guest 
That best becomes the table. 

itfarriafie. — Plutarch. 
\\ EN that marry Women very much superior to themselves, are 
not so truly Husbands to their Wives, as they are unawares 
made Slaves to their Portions. 

ittacrtage. — Martial. 

pERPETUAL Harmony their bed attend, 

And Venus still the well-match'd pair befriend ! 
May she, when Time has sunk him into years, 
Love her old man, and cherish his white hairs; 
Nor he perceive her Charms thro* age decay, 
But think each happy sun his Bridal day ! 

iftaruage.— miton. 

TT is a less breach of Wedlock to part, with wise and quiet con- 
sent, betimes, than still to foil and profane that Mystery of Joy 
and Union with a polluting sadness and perpetual distemper. 

marriage. — Shahtpeare. 
r riIY Husband is thy Lord, thy life, thy keeper, 

Thy head, thy Sovereign : one that cares for thee, 
And for thy maintenance : commits his body 
To painful labour, both by sea and land ; 
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 
While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe, 
And craves no other Tribute at thy hands, 
But Love, fair Looks, and true Obedience ; 
Too little Payment for so great a Debt. 

1 ft axtia$c — Swift. 

'THE reason who so few Marriages are happy, is because young 
Ladies spend their time in making Nets, not in making Cages. 

HJarrtajje. — Skalcspeare. 
TTAPPY in this, she is not yet so old, 

But she may learn ; and happier than this, 
She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
Happiest of all, is, that her gentle Spirit 
Commits itself to yours, to be directed. 

ftf atuage. — Simonides. 
Of earthly goods the best, is a good Wife ; 
A bad, the bitterest Curse of human life. 


itt atria ge. — Skakspeare. 
God the best maker of all Marriages. 

JHarriage.— Seiden. 

lyTABIlIAGrE is a desperate thing : the Frogs in iEsop were 
extremely wise ; they had a great mind to some Water, but 
they would not leap into the Well, because they could not get out 

J&arrittge.— MassUhn. 

"pVERY effort is made in forming Matrimonial Alliances to recon- 
cile matters relating to Fortune, but very little is paid to the 
Congeniality of Dispositions, or to the Accordance of Hearts. 

jrftarriage. — MUton. 

TTAIL Wedded Love, mysterious law, true source 

Of human offspring, sole propriety 
In Paradise of all things common else. 
By thee adult'rous Lust was driven from men 
Among the bestial herds to range \ by thee 
Founded in Reason, loyal, just and pure, 
Relations dear, and all the Charities 
Of Father, Son, and Brother first were known. 

IfflauiaQt. — Skakspeare. 
IV/rARRIAGrE is a matter of more worth 
Than to be dealt in by attorneyship. 
For what is Wedlock forced, but a Hell, 
An age of discord and continual Strife ? 
Whereas the contrary bringeth forth Bliss, 
And is a pattern of Celestial Peace. 

JHarriage. — Osborne. 
I PITY from my heart the unhappy Man who has a bad Wife. 
She is Shackles on his feet, a Palsy to his hands, a Burden on 
his shoulder, Smoke to his eyes, Vinegar to his teeth, a Thorn to 
his side, a Dagger to his heart. 

Utariaae. — Skakspeare. 

Within a month; 
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous Tears 
Had left the flushing of her galled Eyes, 
She married : — most wicked speed. 

J$ atria ge. — Vanbrugh. 

TF Idleness be the root of all Evil, then Matrimony's good for 
something, for it sets many a poor Woman to work. 


/Carriage. — Shakspeare. 

Hasty Marriage seldom proveth well. 

i^latn'atjr Shakspearc. 

Should all despair, 
That have revolted Wives, the tenth of Mankind 
Would hang themselves. 

|#arrtafie Futur. 

'PHE good Wife is nnne of our dainty dames, who love to appear 
in a variety of suits every day new ; as if a good gown, like a 
stratagem in War, were to be used but once. But our good Wife 
sets up a sail according to the keel of her husband's estate ; and if 
of high Parentage, she doth not so remember what she was by 
birth, that she forgets what she is by match. 

iHatriage. — Shakspeare. 
Reason, my son 

Should choose himself a Wife; but as good reason, 
The Father (all whose joy is nothing else 
But fair Posterity) should hold some counsel 
In such a business. 

iHarriage. — Shakspeare. 
She is mine own; 
And I as rich in having such a Jewel, 
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, 
The water Nectar, and the rocks pure Gold. 
I will be master of what is mine own : 
She is my Goods, my chattels ; she is my house, 
My Household-stuff, my field, my barn, 
My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing; 
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare; 
I'll bring mine Action on the proudest he 
That stops my way in Padua. 

itf atTtafle. — Shakspeare. 
CUCH duty as the Subject owes the Prince, 

Even such a Woman oweth to her Husband : 
And, when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour, 
And, not obedient to his honest will, 
What is she but a foul contending Rebel, 
And graceless Traitor to her loving lord ? 

itfatriage. — Fuller. 

THIRST get an absolute Conquest over thyself, and then thou wilt 
easily govern thy Wife. 



fH a triage. — Shakspeare. 

A light Wife doth make a heavy Husband. 

H&amage.— Pamea. 

VET here and there we grant a gentle Bride, 
Whose temper betters by the father's side; 
Unlike the rest that double human care, 
Fond to relieve, or resolute to share : 
Happy the Man whom thus his stars advance ! 
The Curse is general, but the Blessing chance. 

iB atCta C$e. — Sir Walter Raleigh. 
r rHE best time for Marriage, will be toward thirty, for as the 
younger times are unfit, either to choose or to govern a Wife 
and family, so, if thou stay long, thou shalt hardly see the educa- 
tion of thy children, who, being left to strangers, are in effect lost: 
and better were it to be unborn than ill-bred : for thereby thy 
Posterity shall either perish, or remain a shame to thy Name. 

IHarriagC. — Shakspeare. 
^U/TTHIN the bond of Marriage, tell me, Brutus 

Is it excepted, I should know no secrets 
That appertain to you ? Am I yourself 
But, as it were, on sort, or limitation ; 
To keep with you at Meals, comfort your bed, 
And talk to you sometimes ? Dwell I but in the suburbs 
Of your good Pleasure ? If it be no more, 
Portia is Brutus' Harlot, not his Wife. 

ftlart.gttoom. — Coiton. 

TTE that dies a Martyr, proves that he was not a Knave, but by 
no means that he was not a Fool. 

fHattgrtiom. — Coiton. 

'TWO things are necessary to a modern Martyr, — some to pity, 
and some to persecute ; some to regret, and some to roast him. 

Cije £&a$UZ. — Steele. 
TT is not only paying wages, and giving commands, that consti- 
tutes a Master of a Family; but Prudence, equal behaviour, 
with a readiness to protect and cherish them, is what entitle a man 
to that character in their very Hearts and Sentiments. 

fHastcts antf jcetb a nt$. — Fuller. 

TF thou art a Master, be sometimes Blind; if a Servant, some- 
times Deaf. 


/Hatter vs. iHanner. — win. 

TX composing, think much more of your Matter than your Manner. 
To be sure, spirit, grace, and dignity of manner are of great im- 
portance both to the speaker and writer; but of infinitely more 
importance is the weight and worth of matter. The fashion of the 
times is much changed since Thomson wrote his Seasons, and 
Hervey his Meditations. It will no longer do to fill the ear only 
with pleasant sounds, or the fancy with fine images. The mind, 
the understanding, must be filled with solid thought. The age of 
ornament is over, that of utility has succeeded. The "pugnaa 
quam pompse aptius" is the order of the day, and men fight now 
with clenched fist, not with open hand — with logic, and not with 

iHcatts an* GfrraceptioiuL— Cotton. 

COME men possess Means that are great, but fritter them away in 
the execution of Conceptions that are little; and there are 
others who can form great Conceptions, but who attempt to carry 
them into Execution with little Means. These two descriptions of 
men might succeed if united, but as they are usually kept asunder 
by Jealousy, both fail. It is a rare thing to find a combination of 
great Means and of great Conceptions in one Mind. 

fOLtbitittitj). — La Rochefoucauld. 
"JVTINDS of moderate Calibre ordinarily condemn every thing 
which is beyond their range. 

/tfctUOCritP. — La Bmycre. 
X\R meet with few utterly dull and stupid Souls: the Sublime 
and Transcendent are still fewer; the generality of Mankind 
stand between these two extremes : the interval is filled with mul- 
titudes of ordinary Geniuses, but all very useful, and the ornaments 
and supports of the Commonwealth. 

ftleTHOCCitl?.— CoUon. 
TITERE are circumstances of peculiar Difficulty and Danger, 
where a Mediocrity of Talent is the most fatal quantum that a 
man can possibly possess. Had Charles the First, and Louis the 
Sixteenth, been more Wise or more Weak, more Firm or more 
Yielding, in either case they had both of them saved their heads. 

fHelandjOlg. — Shakspeare. 
Melancholy ! 
Who ever yet could sound thy bottom ? find 
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish Carrack 
Mi Mit eas'liest harbour in? 



iHdancfjOlj). — Shakspeare. 

T HAVE of late (but wherefore I know not,) lost all my Mirth, 
foregone all custom of Exercises : and, indeed, it goes soheavilv 
with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the Earth, seems to 
me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the Air, look 
you, this brave o'erhanging Firmament, this majestical Koof fretted 
with golden Fire, why it appears no other thing to me, than a foul 
and pestilent congregation of Vapours. 

iHemorj).— Byron. 
T>UT ever and anon of griefs subdued, 

There comes a token like a Scorpion's sting, 
Scarce seen but with fresh bitterness imbued ; 

And slight withal may be the things which bring 

Back on the Heart the weight which it would fling 
Aside for ever : it may be a sound — 

A tone of music — summer's eve — or spring, 
A flower — the wind — the Ocean — which shall wound, 
Striking the electric chain wherewith we're darkly bound ; 

And how and why we know not, nor can trace 
Home to its cloud this Lightning of the Mind, 

But feel the shock renew'd, nor can efface 
The blight and blackening which it leaves behind, 
Which out of things familiar, undesign'd, 

When least we deem of such, calls up to view 
The Spectres whom no exorcism can bind, 

The cold — the changed — perchance the dead — anew, 

The mourn'd, the loved, the lost — too many ! yet how few ! 

iftletttOrp. — Goldsmith. 
THOU, like the World, th' opprest oppressing, 

Thy smiles increase the wretch's Woe ! 
And he who wants each other blessing, 

In thee must ever find a Foe. 

iHnnoq?. — Goldsmith. 
Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, 
Swells at my Breast, and turns the Past to pain. 

j3ftcmorg. — Byron. 
"RUT in that instant, o'er his Soul 

Winters of Memory seem'd to roll, 
And gather in that drop of time 
A life of Pain, an age of Crime : 
O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears, 
Such moment pours the Grief of years. 


itf cntal 3r\Q\iisl). — fi!/ro7i. 

l^OR Pleasures past I do not grieve, 

Nor Perils gathering near ; 
My greatest G-rief is that I leave 

No thing that claims a Tear. 

iBeittal EngiUSf).— Shakspeare. 

Alas, how is't with you ? 
That you do bend your eye on Vacancy, 
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse ? 
Forth at your eyes your Spirits wildly peep; 
And, as sleeping Soldiers in the alarm, 
Your bedded hair, like Life in excrements, 
Starts up, and stands on end. 

itfnttal HnfllUS j. — Shakspeare. 

His flaw'd Heart, 
(Alack, too weak the conflict to support !) 
'Twixt two extremes of passion, Joy and Grief, 
Burst smilingly. 

/Hetttal HttgUtSfj. — Shakspeare. 
"VyHEN I would pray and think, I think and pray 

To several subjects : Heaven in my mouth, 
As if I did but only chew His name; 
And in my Heart, the strong and swelling evil 
Of my Conception. 

ffitnta I .HttgUtSf) . — Byron. 
T FLY, like a Bird of the air, 

In search of a home and a rest ; 
A balm for the sickness of Care : 
A Bliss for a bosom unblest. 

SB r n t a I H n g u t sf) . — Milton. 

TJETIRING- from the popular noise, I seek 

This unfrequented place to find some ease, 
Ease to the body some, none to the mind 
From restless thoughts, that like a deadly swarm 
Of Hornets arrn'd, no sooner found alone, 
But rush upon me thronging, and present 
Time past, what once I was, and what am now. 

ffltntSLl EltgUtg j. — Shakspeare. 

What is in thy Mind, 
That makes thee stare thus ? Wherefore breaks that sigh 
From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus, 
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd 
Beyond self-explication. 




iHctttal &ttgUt0fj,— Shdkspeare. 
LL me, what is't that takes from thee 
Thy stomach, Pleasure, and thy golden Sleep; 
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the Earth ; 
And start so often, when thou sitt'st alone ? 
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks; 
And given my treasures, and my rights of thee, 
To thick-eyed Musing, and cursed Melancholy ? 
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd, 
And heard thee murmur tales of iron Wars, 
And all the currents of a heady Fight. 
Thy Spirit within thee hath been so at war, 
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 
That beads of Sweat have stood upon thy brow, 
Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream : 
And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, 
Such as we see, when men restrain their Breath 
On some great sudden haste. Oh what Portents are these ? 

Rental ^ngtusf), — Milton. 

Oh might I here 
In solitude live Savage, in some glade 
Obscured, where highest woods impenetrable 
To star or sun-light, spread their umbrage broad 
And brown as evening : cover me ye Pines, 
Ye Cedars, with innumerable boughs 
Hide me, where I may never see them more. 

i$nttai HttgUtSf). — Shakspeare. 

Grieved I, I had but one ? 

Chid I for That at frugal Nature's frame? 
I've one too much by thee. Why had I one? 
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes ? 
Why had I not, with charitable hand, 
Took up a Beggar's issue at my gates? 
Who smeer'd thus, and mired with infamy, 
I might have said, no part of it is mine; 
This Shame derives itself from unknown loins: 
But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised, 
And mine that I was proud on, mine so much, 
That I myself was to myself not mine, 
Valuing of her; why, she, — Oh, she is fall'n 
Into a pit of Ink, that the wide Sea 
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again ; 
And Salt too little which may season give 
To her foul tainted Flesh ! 

/?, TIIIXG S NE W A XD OLD. 361 

iHflttal HngiUSfj. — Skakspeare. 

JJETWEEN the acting of a dreadful thing, 

And the first motion, all the interim is 
Like a Phautasma, or a hideous dream : 
The Genius, and the mortal instruments, 
Are then in council ; and the state of a man, 
Like to a little Kingdom, suffers then 
The nature of an insurrection. 

fHctttal ftltgUfe!. — ShaJcspeare. 

31 Y Mind is troubled like a Fountain stirr'd; 
And I myself see not the bottom of it. 

Jttttltai .EttfrUtslj. — Byron. 

To be thus — 
Gray-hair' d with anguish, like these blasted pines, 
Wrecks of a single Winter, barkless, branchless, 
A blighted trunk upon a cursed root, 
Which but supplies a feeling to decay — 
And to be thus, eternally but thus, 
Having been otherwise ! Xow furrow'd o'er 
With wrinkles, plough'd by moments, not by Years; 
And hours — all tortured into ages — hours 
Which I outlive ! Ye toppling crngs of Ice ! 
Ye Avalanches, whom a breath draws down 
In mountainous overwhelming, come and crush me! 
I hear ye momently above, beneath, 
Crash with a frequent Conflict ; but ye pass, 
And only fall on things that still would live. 

iHwtai KngiltSij.— Joanna BaUlie. 
/~\II that I were upon some desert coast! 

Where howling Tempests and the Lashing Tide 
Would stun me into deep and senseless Quiet ! 
Come Madness ! come unto me, senseless Death ! 
I cannot suffer this ! Here, rocky wall, 
Scatter these Brains, or dull them ! 

iHctttfll Hnguisfj. — ShaJcspeare. 
T r ET could I bear that too ; well, very well : 

But there, where I have garner' d up my Heart; 
Where either I must live, or bear no Life; 
The fountain from the which my current runs, 
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence ! 
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads 
To knot and gender in ! turn thy Complexion there ! 
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd Cherubin; 
Ay, there, look grim as Hell ! 


ffltXltUl HligutSi). — Skakspeare. 

Had it pleased Heaven 
To try me with Affliction ; had he rain'd 
All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare Head; 
Steep'd me in Poverty to the very lips ; 
Given to Captivity me and my utmost hopes ; 
I should have found in some part of my Soul 
A drop of Patience : but (alas !) to make me 
A fixed figure, for the type of Scorn 
To point his low, unmoving finger at, — 
Oh! Oh! 

iBeittal &ngUfeJ, — Skakspeare. 

Pr'ythee, lead me in : 
There take an inventory of all I have, 
To the last penny; 'tis the King's ; my robe, 
And my integrity to Heaven, is all 
I dare now call my own. Cromwell, Cromwell, 
Had I but served my God with half the zeal 
I served my King, he would not in mine age 
Have left me naked to mine Enemies. 

i^Clttal £Uigiltgl).— Skakspeare. 
"\\rE'LL no more meet, no more see one another : 

But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my Daughter, 
Or, rather, a Disease that's in my flesh, 
Which I must needs call mine ; thou art a boil, 
A plague-sore, or imboss'd Carbuncle, 
In my corrupted Blood : But I'll not chide thee. 

iBCHtal &ttgttt0f). — Byron. 
T OOK on me in my Sleep, 

Or watch my watchings — Come and sit by me ! 
My Solitude is Solitude no more, 
But peopled with the Furies : — I have gnash'd 
My teeth in darkness till returning morn, 
Then cursed myself till sunset; — I have pray'd 
For Madness as a blessing — 'tis denied me. 

jBcntal iclntJUtSf). — Skakspeare. 

("WNST thou not minister to a Mind diseased; 

Pluck from the Memory a rooted Sorrow ; 
Haze out the written troubles of the Brain ; 
And, with some sweet oblivious Antidote, 
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff, 
Which weighs upon the Heart? 


iBwtal RnQUi$l). — ShaIcspeare. 
Some strange commotion 
Is in his Brain : he bites his Lip, and starts : 
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, 
Then lays his finger on his Temple; straight, 
Springs out into fast gait ; then, stops again, 
Strikes his Breast hard ) and anon, he casts 
His eye against the Moon; in most strange postures 
"We have seen him set himself. 

iBental HnrriU'gf). — Shakspeare. 
f\ VANITY of Sickness ! fierce extremes, 

In their continuance, will not feel themselves. 
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, 
Leaves them insensible ; and his Siege is now 
Against the Mind, the which he pricks and wounds 
With many Legions of strange fantasies , 
Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, 
Confound themselves. 

S<™ E 

iHcrCJ). — Spenser. 
clarkes doe doubt in their devicefull art 
Whether this Heavenly thing whereof I treat, 
To weeten Mercie, be of Justice part, 

Or drawne forth from her by divine entreate; 
This well I wote, that sure she is as great, 
And meriteth to have as high a place, 

Sith in the Almightie's everlasting seat, 
She first was bred, and born of heavenly race, 
From thence pour'd down on men by influence of Grace 

J8eWg.— Moore. 

C\¥ God she sung, and of the mild 

Attendant Mercy, that beside 
His awful throne for ever smiled, 

Ready, with her white hand, to guide 
His bolts of vengeance to their prey — 
That she might quench them on their way ! 

itf CtCJ). — Shakspeare. 

How would you be, 
If He, which is the top of Judgment, should 
But judge you as you are ? Oh, thiuk on that, 
And Mercy then will breathe within your lips, 
Like man new made. 


j&tercg; — Shakspeare. 
'THE quality of Mercy is not strain'd : 

It droppeth, as the gentle rain from Heaven 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless'd ; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
The throned Monarch better than his Crown : 
His Sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 
But Mercy is above this scepter' d sway, 
It is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
When Mercy seasons Justice. 

Consider this, — 
That, in the course of Justice, none of us 
Should see Salvation : we do pray for Mercy ; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of Mercy. 

iHerCJ), — Shakspeare. 
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the Gods ? 
Draw near them then in being merciful : 
Sweet Mercy is Nobility's true badge. 

irUltrit. — La Rochefoucauld. 
Elevation is to Merit what Dress is to a handsome person. 

i$lC Ctf . — La Rochefoucauld. 
'THERE is Merit without Elevation, but there is no Elevation 
without some Merit. 

if¥lcrit» — La Rochefoucauld. 
'THE mark of extraordinary Merit is to see those most envious 
of it constrained to praise. 

iBcrit. — La Bruyere. 
1" AM told so many ill things of a man, and I see so few in him, 
that I begin to suspect he has a real but troublesome Merit, as 
being likely to eclipse that of others. 

ffiitxit. — La Rochefoucauld. 
'THE art of being able to make a good use of moderate abilities 
wins Esteem, and often confers more Reputation than real 

irHfrit. — La Rochefoucauld. 
Nature creates Merit, and Fortune brings it into play. 


iBerit — Queen Christina. 
Merit is bom with Men; happy those with whom it dies. 

£Birib.— Goldsmith. 
THHE Little Mind who loves itself, will write and think with the 
vulgar ; but the Great Mind will be bravely eccentric, and 
scorn the beaten road, from universal Benevolence. 

Hfcmfc.— swift, 

A wise Man is never less alone, than when he is alone. 

£Bh\ti. — GaUus. 
X\E> in vain summon the Mind to intense application, when the 
Body is in a languid state. 

iHmtl. — Cotton. 
TF the most skilful Musician in the world were placed before an 
unstrung or broken instrument, he could not produce the Har- 
mony which he was accustomed to do when that instrument was 
perfect, nay, on the contrary, the sounds would be discordant; and 
yet it would be manifestly most illogical to conclude, from such 
an effect, that the powers of the Musician were impaired, since 
they merely appeared to be so from the imperfection of the instru- 
ment. Now what the Instrument is to the Musician, the Brain 
may be to the Mind, for aught we know to the contrary; and to 
pursue the figure, as the musician has an existence distinct from that 
of the instrument, so the Mind may have an existence distinct from 
that of the Brain ; for in truth we have no proof whatever of 
Mind being a property dependent upon any arrangement of Matter. 
We perceive, indeed, the properties of Matter wonderfully modi- 
fied in the various things of the Universe, which strike our senses 
with the force of their Sublimity or Beauty ; but in all these we re- 
cognise certain radical and common properties, that bear no con- 
ceivable relation to those mysterious capacities of Thought and of 
Feeling, referable to that something which, to designate and dis- 
tinguish from Matter, we term Miud. In this way, I conceive, 
the Common Sense of Mankind has made the distinction which 
everywhere obtains between Mind and Matter; for it is natural 
to conclude, that the essence of Mind may be distinct from the 
essence of Matter, as the operations of the one are so distinct from 
the properties of the other. But when we say that Mind is 
immaterial, we only mean that it has not the properties of Matter; 
for the consciousness which informs us of the operations, does not 
reveal the abstract nature of Mind, neither do the properties reveal 
the essence of Matter. 


iffimS.— Fuller. 

"-JAIID, rugged, and dull natures of youth acquit themselves 
afterward the Jewels of the Countrey, and therefore their 
dulnesse at first is to be borne with, if they be diligent. That 
schoolmaster deserves to be beaten himself who beats Nature in a 
boy for a fault. And I question whether all the whipping in the 
world can make their parts, which are naturally sluggish, rise one 
minute before the houre Nature hath appointed. 

fflitib. — Nbvalis. 
A CERTAIN degree of Solitude seems necessary to the full 
growth and spread of the highest Mind ; and therefore must a 
very extensive Intercourse with Men stifle many a holy germ, and 
scare away the gods, who shun the restless tumult of noisy Com- 
panies and the discussion of petty Interests. 

Jftflft. — CeUon. 

\\TE may also doubt about the existence of Matter as learnedly 
and as long as we please, as some have done before us, and 
yet we shall not establish the existence of Matter by any such 
dubitatious ; but the moment we begin to doubt about the exist- 
ence of Mind, the very act of doubting proves it. 

j&ht}!. — La Rochefoucauld. 
JNTREPIDITY is an extraordinary strength of Mind, which 
raises it above the troubles, the disorders, and the emotions, 
which the sight of great perils is calculated to excite ; it is by this 
strength that Heroes maintain themselves in a tranquil state of 
Mind, and preserve the free use of their Reason under the most 
surprising and terrible circumstances. 

£&int}. — Terence. 
~^"0 man was ever so completely skilled in the conduct of Life, as 
nit to receive new information from Age and Experience; in- 
somuch that we find ourselves really ignorant of what we thought 
we understood, and see cause to reject what we fancied our truest 


'THE blessing of an active Mind, when it is in a good condition, is, 
that it not only employs itself, but is almost sure to be the 
means of giving wholesome Employment to others. 

/B hill. — La Bruyere. 
THE Mind, like all other things, will become impaired; the 
Sciences are its food; they nourish, but at the same they con« 
suiue it. 



A S it is in himself alone that Man can find true and enduring 
Happiness, so in himself alone can he find true and efficient 
Consolation in Misfortune. 

£&in&. — Seneca. 
A S the Soil, however rich it may be, cannot be productive without 
"" Culture, so the Mind without Cultivation can never produce 
good Fruit. 

ffliinii. — Lord Cheater field. 
"PRIVOLOUS Curiosity about trifles, and laborious attention to 
little objects, which neither require nor deserve a moment's 
thought, lower a Man, who from thence is thought (and not un- 
justly) incapable of greater Matters. Cardinal de Retz very sa- 
gaciously marked out Cardinal Chigi for a little mind, from the 
moment he told him that he had wrote three years with the same 
Pen, and that it was an excellent good one still. 

JHtnti. _ Seneca. 
'TO see a man fearless in Dangers, uutaiuted with Lusts, happy 
in Adversity, composed in a tumult, and laughing at all those 
things which are generally either coveted or feared, all men must 
acknowledge that this can be nothing else but a beam of Divinity 
that influences a mortal body. 

.fH info. — La Rochefoucauld. 
\\TE find means to cure Folly, but none to reclaim a distorted 
TT Mind. 

/£ttnu\ — rope. 
f BELIEVE it is no wrong observation, that persons of Genius, 
and those who are most capable of Art, are always most fond 
of Nature : as such are chiefly sensible, that all Art consists in the 
imitation and study of Nature. On the contrary, people of the 
common level of understanding are principally delighted with the 
little niceties and fantastical operations of Art, and constantly think 
that finest which is least natural. 

JHmu\ — Fuller. 
TF thou desirest Ease, in the first place take care of the Ease of 
thy Mind ; for that will make all other sufferings easy : But 
nothing can support a Man whose Miud is wounded. 

i^flttttJ. — Shakspeare. 
"POR Nature, crescent, does not grow alone 

In Thews and Bulk ; but as this Temple waxes, 
The inward service of the Mind and Soul 
Grows wide withal. 



j$lilVu\ — ShaJcspeare. 
'Tis the Mind that makes the Body rich ; 
And as the Sun breaks through the darkest clouds, 
So Honour poereth in the meanest habit. 
What, is the Jay more precious than the Lark, 
Because his Feathers are more beautiful ? 
Or is the Adder better than the Eel, 
Because his painted skin contents the eye ? 

Minti. — Goldsmith. 
A MIND too vigorous and active serves only to consume the 
Body to which it is joined, as the richest Jewels are soonest 
found to wear their Settings. 

Mints. — Colton. 
TTE that has no resources of Mind, is more to be pitied than he 
who is in want of necessaries for the Body; and to be obliged 
to beg our daily Happiness from others, bespeaks a more lament- 
able Poverty than that of him who begs his daily bread. 

J&mK — Goldsmith. 
"pOB, just Experience tells, in ev'ry soil, 

That those who think must govern those that toil ; 
And all that Freedom's highest aims can reach 
Is but to lay proportion'd loads on each. 

Mint!.— Young. 
Our outward act, indeed, admits restraint, 
'Tis not in things o'er Thought to domineer; 
Guard well thy Thoughts : our Thoughts are heard in Heaven 

jTOnfc. — ShaJcspeare. 

This man so complete, 
Who was enrolFd 'mongst wonders, and when we, 
Almost with list'ning ravish'd, could not find 
His hour of speech, a minute ; he, my Lady, 
Hath into monstrous Habits put the Graces 
That once were his ; and is become as black, 
As if besmear'd in Hell. 

MiritS. — Brown. 
THERE is a Rabble amongst the Gentry, as well as the Common- 
alty, a sort of plebeian heads, whose fancy moves with the same 
wheel as these men — in the same level with mechanics ; though their 
Fortunes do somewhat gild their infirmities, and their Purses com- 
pound for their Follies. 

Cfte Mints. — Young. 
A Soul without Reflection, like a Pile 
Without Inhabitant, to ruin runs. 


Cf)e fflUnti.—Anon. 
A WEAK Mind sinks under Prosperity, as well as under Ad- 
versity. A strong and deep Mind has two highest tides, — 
when the Moon is at the full, and when there is no Moon. 

Miritl SlnCUlttbatetr. — ShaJcspeare. 
'Tis an unweeded Garden, 
That grows to Seed ; things rank, and gross in nature, 
Possess it merely. 

ffllXtf). — Peter Pindar. 
Care to our Coffin adds a nail, no doubt ; 
And ev'ry Grin so merry draws one out. 

ifttserteg. — Coiton. 

CjMALL Miseries, like small Debts, hit us in so many places, and 
meet us at so many turns and corners, that what they want in 
weight, they make up in number, and render it less hazardous to 
stand the fire of one Cannon Ball, than a Volley composed of such 
a shower of Bullets. 

fflimkZ. — Greville. 
TT is often better to have a great deal of Harm to happen to one 
than a little : a great deal may rouse you to remove what a little 
will only accustom you to endure. 

ffliZZtitX. — S/iakspeare. 
A/TEN'S natures wrangle with inferior things, 

Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so; 
For let our Finger ache, and it indues 
Our other healthful members ev'n to that sense 
Of Pain. 


AS small letters hurt the Sight, so do small matters him that is 
too much intent upon them : they vex and stir up Anger, 
which begets an evil habit in him in reference to greater Affairs. 

i^lt'Serj). — ShaJcspeare. 
Famine is in thy cheeks, 
Need and Oppression starveth in thy eyes, 
Upon thy back hangs ragged Misery, 
The world is not thy Friend, nor the world's law. 

JJfltStfOrtUttCS. — Joanna Baillic. 
Those who bear Misfortunes over meekly 
Do but persuade mankind that they and Want 
Are all too fitly match'd to be disjoin'd, 
And so to it they leave them. 



ffliSfOXtVLXlt.— Addison. 
A Soul exasperated in ills, falls out 
With every thing, its Friend, itself. 

iBtSfOCtUne. — Shakspeare. 
r THO' now this grained face of mine be hid 
In sap-consuming Winter's drizzled snow, 
And all the conduits of my Blood froze up ; 
Yet hath my night of life some memory ; 
My wasting lamp some fading Glimmer left, 
My dull, deaf ears a little use to hear. 

iftltgftlttune. — Shakspeare. 
'TIME hath not yet so dried this Blood of mine, 

Nor Age so eat up my invention, 
Nor Fortune made such havock of my Means, 
Nor my bad life reft me so much of Friends 
But they shall find awaked, in such a kind, 
Both strength of limb, and policy of Mind, 
Ability in Means, and choice of Friends 
To quit me of them thoroughly. 

MitifOXtUM. — Shakspeare. 
A LL things, that we ordained Festival, 

Turn from their office to black Funeral : 
Our instruments to melancholy bells ; 
Our Wedding cheer to a sad burial feast ; 
Our solemn Hymns to sullen Dirges change ; 
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, 
And all things change them to the contrary. 

ffliZiOXtUnt. — La Rochefoucauld. 
\\TE have all of us sufficient Fortitude to bear the Misfortunes of 

ffliXfOKtUm. — SJiakspeare. 
T^HOU were better in thy Grave than to answer with thy unco- 
vered body this extremity of the Skies. — Is man no more than 
this ? Consider him well : Thou owest the Worm no silk, the 
Beast no hide, the Sheep no wool, the Cat no perfume : unaccom- 
modated Man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as 
thou art. 

ffliZfOXtUXlt. — Shakspeare. 
Sick in the World's regard, wretched and low. 

ffllSf M\im.— Mallet. 
Who hath not known 111- fortune, never knew 
Himself, or his own Virtue. 


iHlSfortUTte. — Shakspeare. 

My May of life 
Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf: 
And that which should accompany old Age, 
As Honour, Love, Obedience, troops of Friends, 
I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, 
Curses, not loud, but deep, Mouth-honour, breath, 
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not. 

J® t0ft)ttutte. — Shdkspeare. 
"VT Y blood, my want of strength, my sick heart, shows 

That I must yield my body to the Earth, 
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. 
Thus yields the Cedar to the axe's edge, 
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely Eagle, 
Under whose shade the ramping Lion slept ; 
Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree 
And kept low shrubs from Winter's powerful wind. 

iEltSftirtUne. — Shdkspeare. 
A most poor man, made tame by Fortune's blows ; 
Who, by the art of known and feeling Sorrows, 
Am pregnant to good Pity. 

JEtSfortUTte. — Shakspeare. 

Who had the world as my Confectionary, 

The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men 

At duty, more than I could frame employment ; 

That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves 

Do on the Oak, have with one Winter's brush 

Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare 

For every Storm that blows. 

iHtSfCrttme* — Shakspeare. 
This world to me is like a lasting Storm, 
Whirring me from my Friends. 

JHt£tfOrtUttC. — Shakspeare. 
Good stars, that were my former guides, 
Have empty left their Orbs, and shot their fires 
Into the abysm of Hell. 

iHiSftrtime. — Shakspeare. 
\y HAT, are my doors opposed against my passage ? 

Have I been ever free, and must my house 
Be my retentive Enemy, my Gaol ? 
The place, which I have feasted, does it now, 
Like all Mankind, show me an iron Heart? 


iBt'SfortUtte.— ghakspeare. 
"JIS certain, Greatness, once fallen out with Fortune, 
Must fall out with men too : What the declined is, 
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others, 
As feel in his own fall : for men, like Butterflies, 
Show not their mealy wings, but to the summer; 
And not a man, for being simply Man, 
Hath any Honour j but honour for those Honours 
That are without him, as Place, Riches, Favour, 
Prizes of accident as oft as Merit : 
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, 
The Love that lean'd on them as slippery too, 
Do one pluck down another, and together 
Die in the fall. 

MittfQXtUVLZ. — Shakspeare. 

To some kind of men, 
Their graces serve them but as enemies. — 
Oh, what a World is this, when what is comely 
Envenoms him that bears it ! 

jTOgfOrtUlte. — Shakspeare. 
Oh, sick to Death : 
My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, 
Willing to leave their Burden. 

iHtSftirtime. — From the French. 
MISFORTUNES are, in Morals, what bitters are in medicine : 
each is at first disagreeable ) but as the bitters act as corro- 
borants to the stomach, so Adversity chastens and ameliorates the 

iHtSfortUne. — From the French. 
TT is much better to endeavour to forget one's Misfortunes, than 
to speak often of them. 

J$tSUSe. _ Shakspeare. 

Oh, who shall believe 
But you misuse the Reverence of your place ; 
Employ the countenance and Grace of Heaven, 
As a false favourite doth his Prince's name, 
In deeds dishonourable ? 

Cf)e i£tO&.— Thomson. 

Inconstant, blind, 
Deserting Friends at need, and duped by Foes ; 
Loud and seditious, when a Chief inspired 
Their headlong fury, but, of him deprived, 
Already Slaves that lick'd the scourging hand. 


Cje ffltib. — Bryden. 

The Scum 
That rises upmost, when the Nation boils. 

Cf)e fflot.— Joanna Baillie. 
"TIS ever thus : Indulgence spoils the base ; 

Raising up Pride, and lawless Turbulence, 
Like noxious vapours from the fulsome Marsh 
When Morning shines upon it. 

Cf)e MM.— Mackenzie. 

ly/TANKIND in the gross is a Gaping Monster, that loves to be 
deceived, and has seldom been disappointed. 

Cf)e JHofc.— Otway. 
These wide-mouth'd brutes, that bellow thus for Freedom ; 
Oh ! how they run before the hand of Pow'r, 
Flying for shelter into every Brake ! 

itfotierattcm. — Shahspeare. 
HPHEY are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve 
with nothing. It is no mean Happiness, therefore, to be seated 
in the mean : Superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but Com- 
petency lives longer. 

i$ Operation. — La Rochefoucauld. 
TV/T ODERATION is a fear of falling into envy, and into the Con- 
tempt which those deserve who become intoxicated with their 
Good Fortune ; it is a vain ostentation of the strength of our 
mind ; in short, the Moderation of men in their highest elevation 
is a desire of appearing greater than their Fortune. 

iHotierattOn. — La Rochefoucauld. 
"TV/TODERATION is like Temperance : we should wish to eat 
more, but are afraid of injuring our health. 

iHotJCSt)). — Steele. 
A MODEST person seldom fails to gain the Goodwill of those he 
converses with, because nobody envies a aislu who does not ap- 
pear to be pleased with himself. 

iHotJCSt}}. — Young 
That modest Grace subdued my soul ; 
That chastity of look, which seems to hang 
A veil of purest light o'er all her Beauties. 

iHotieStg Shakspeare. 

T ASK, that I might waken Reverence, 

And bid the cheek be ready with a blush, 
Modest as Morning when she coldly eyes 
The youthful Phoebus. 


_ KHctoeStg."— ShaJcspeare. 
T'HE chariest maid is prodigal enough, 

If she unmask her beauty to the Moon : 
Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes : 
The canker galls the infants of the Spring, 
Too oft before their buttons be disclosed ; 
And in the morn and liquid dew of Youth, 
Contagious blastments are most imminent. 
Be wary then : best Safety lies in Fear. 

i$lCrtie0tj). — La Bruyere. 
jyjODESTY is to Merit as Shades to Figures in a Picture ; giving 
it Strength and Beauty. 

iTOotreiStg* — Addison. 
A JUST and reasonable Modesty does not only recommend Elo- 
quence, but sets off every great talent which a man can be 
possessed of: it heightens all the Virtues which it accompanies; 
like the Shades in Paintings, it raises and rounds every Figure, and 
makes the colours more beautiful, though not so glaring as they 
would be without. 

MtitMit!). —Hughes. 

^/[ERE Bashfulness without Merit is awkward : and Merit without 
Modesty is insolent. But Modest Merit has a double claim to 

J&OtoStg. — Baxter. 

YOU little know what you have done, when you have first broke 
the bounds of Modesty ; you have set open the door of your 
fancy to the Devil, so that he can, almost at his pleasure ever after, 
represent the same sinful pleasure to you anew : he hath now 
access to your fancy to stir up lustful Thoughts and Desires, so 
that when you should think of your calling, or of your G-od, or of 
your soul, your thoughts will be worse than swinish, upon the filth 
that is not fit to be named. If the Devil here get in a foot, he will 
not easily be got out. 

M0tlt$. — Franklin. 
T>EMEMBER that Money is of a prolific, generating nature. 
Money can beget Money, and its offspring can beget more, and 
so on. Five shillings turned is six : turned again it is seven and 
threepence ; and so on till it becomes a Hundred Pounds. The 
more there is of it, the more it produces every turning, so that the 
profits rise quicker and quicker. He that kills a breeding Sow, de- 
stroys all her Offspring to the thousandth generation. He that 
murders a Crown, destroys all that it might have produced, even 
Scores of Pounds. 


J&Otteg, — Cotton. 

r r0 cure us of our immoderate Love of Gain, we should seriously 
consider how many goods there are that Money will not pur- 
chase, and these the best ; and how many Evils there are that 
Money will not remedy, and these the worst. 

iBoneg aittl 2ume.— Johnson. 
1VTONEY and Time are the heaviest burdens of Life, and the un- 
happiest of all mortals are those who have more of either thaD 
they know how to use. 

Jftoneg. — Bouhours. 
Money is a good Servant, but a dangerous Master. 

Wf}t i^OOTt. — Byron. 
'THE Devil's in the Moon for mischief; they 

Who call'd her chaste, methinks, began too soon 
Their nomenclature : there is not a day, 
The longest, not the twenty-first of June, 
Sees half the business in a wicked way 
On which three single hours of Moonshine smile — 
And then she looks so modest all the while. 

ittoralttl). — Longfellow. 
~\/| ORALITY without Religion is only a kind of dead-reckoning — 
an endeavour to find our place on a cloudy sea by measuring 
the distance we have to run, but without any observation of the 
heavenly bodies. 

ffl orals. — Coiton. 

THERE are two principles of established acceptance in Morals ; 
first, that Self-interest is the main spring of all our actions, and, 
secondly, that Utility is the test of their value. Now there are 
some cases where these maxims are not tenable, because they are 
not true ; for some of the noblest energies of Gratitude, of Affection, 
of Courage, and of Benevolence, are not resolvable into the first. 
If it be said indeed that these estimable qualities may after all be 
traced to Self-interest, because all the duties that flow from them 
are a source of the highest Gratification to those that perform 
them; this I presume savours rather too much of an identical pro- 
position, and is only a round-about mode of informing us that 
virtuous men will act virtuously. Take care of Number One, says 
the worldling, and the Christian says so too ; for he has taken the 
best care of Number One, who takes care that Number One shall 
go to Heaven : that blessed place is full of those same selfish beings 
who by having constantly done good to others, have as constantly 
gratified themselves. I humbly conceive, therefore, that it is much 


nearer the Truth to say that all men have an Interest in being 
good, than that all men are good from Interest. As to the standard 
of Utility, this is a mode of examining human actions that looks 
too much to the event; for there are occasions where a man may 
effect the greatest General Good by the smallest Individual Sacri- 
fice, and there are others where he may make the greatest Indi- 
vidual Sacrifice, and yet produce but little General Good. If 
indeed the Moral Philosopher is determined to do all his work with 
the smallest possible quantity of tools, and would wish to cope with 
the Natural Philosopher, who has explained such wonders from 
the two simple causes of Impulse and of Gravity, in this case he 
must look out for maxims as universal as those occasions to which 
he would apply them. Perhaps he might begin by affirming with 
me that — Men are the same; and this will naturally lead him to 
another conclusion, that if men are the same, they can have but 
one common principle of action, the Attainment of apparent Good ; 
those two simple truisms contain the whole of my Philosophy, and 
as they have not been worn out in the performance of one under- 
taking, I trust they will not fail me in the execution of another. 

JItorntng. — Shaksjpeare. 
TTOW bloodily the Sun begins to peer 

Above yon busky hill ! the day looks pale 
At his distemperature. 

The southern Wind 
Doth play the Trumpet to his purposes ; 
And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves 
Foretells a Tempest, and a blustering day. 

J&CMtmfl. — Milton. 
l^OW the bright Morning-star, Day's harbinger, 

Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her 
The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws 
The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose. 

JHormng.— Beattie. 

T>UT who the melodies of Morn can tell ? 

The wild Brook babbling down the mountain's side; 
The lowing Herd; the sheepfold's simple Bell; 

The Pipe of early Shepherd dim descried 

In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide 
The clamorous Horn along the cliffs above ; 

The hollow murmur of the Ocean tide ; 
The hum of Bees, the linnet's lay of Love, 
And the full Choir that wakes the universal Grove 


itfornttttj.— Byron. 
"DUT mighty Nature bounds as from her birth : 

The sun is in the Heavens, and life on Earth; 
Flowers in the Valley, splendour in the Beam, 
Health on the Gale, and freshness in the Stream. 

jHowtng.— Scott. 

Y\/~HAT various scenes, and, oh! what scenes of Wo, 
Are witness'd by that red and struggling beam ! 
The fever' d Patient, from his pallet low, 

Through crowded hospitals beholds it stream; 
The ruin'd Maiden trembles at its gleam, 

The Debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, 
The Love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream ; 

The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, 
Trims her sick Infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail. 

i^lOWtng. — Byron. 
THHE Morn is up again, the dewy Morn, 

With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, 
Laughing the clouds away with playful Scorn, 
And living as if Earth contain'd no tomb, — 
And glowing into Day. 

itfOWtng. — Dryden. 
'THE Morning Lark, the messenger of Day, 

Saluted in her song the Morning gray, 
And soon the Sun arose with beams so bright 
That all th' horizon laugh'd to see the joyous sight; 
He with his tepid rays the Rose renews, 
And licks the drooping leaves, and dries the Dews. 

itfOWtng.— ' Webster. 
THHE Morning itself, few people, inhabitants of cities, know any 
thing about. Among all our good people, not one in a thousand 
sees the sun rise once in a year. They know nothing of the morn- 
ing. Their idea of it is that it is that part of the day which comes 
along after a cup of coffee and a beef-steak or a piece of toast. 
With them, morning is not a new issuing of light, a new bursting 
forth of the sun, a new waking-up of all that has life from a sort 
of temporary death, to behold again the works of God, the heaven? 
and the earth : it is only a part of the domestic day, belonging to 
reading newspapers, answering notes, sending the children to school, 
and giving orders for dinner. The first streak of light, the earliest 
purpling of the east, which the lark springs up to greet, and the 
deeper and deeper colouring into orange and red, till at length the 
" glorious sun is seen, regent of the day" — this they never enjoy, 


for they never see it. I never thought that Adam had much the 
advantage of us from having seen the world while it was new. The 
manifestations of the power of Grod, like his mercies, are " new 
every morning" and fresh every moment. We see as fine risings 
of the sun as ever Adam saw ; and its risings are as much a miracle 
now as they were in his day — and, I think, a good deal more, because 
it is now a part of the miracle, that for thousands and thousands of 
years he has come to his appointed time, without the variation of 
a millionth part of a second. Adam could not tell how this might 
be. I know the morning — I am acquainted with it, and I love it. 
I love it fresh and sweet as it is — a daily new creation, breaking 
forth and calling all that have life and breath and being to new 
adoration, new enjoyments, and new gratitude. 

Mtotmng.— ma<m. 


My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, 
Heaven's last Gift, my ever new delight, 
Awake; the Morning shines, and the fresh field 
Calls us ; we lose the prime, to mark how spring 
Our tender plants, how blows the citron grove, 
What drops the Myrrh, and what the balmy reed, 
How Nature paints her colours, how the Bee 
Sits on the bloom. 

iHorOSetteSS. — Bacon. 
"VTEN" possessing minds which are morose, solemn, and inflexible, 
enjoy, in general, a greater share of Dignity than of Happiness. 

i$0ttb££>. — La Rochefoucauld. 
\\T^ should often have reason to be ashamed of our most brilliant 
Actions, if the world could see the Motives from which they 

Cfje JHountam gltr — Byron. 

Oh ! there is sweetness in the Mountain Air, 

And Life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share. 

JHurtiet. — Shakspeare. 
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach 
Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of Death, 
Art thou damn'd. 

J&unnurmg. — Coiton. 

\/[ URMUR at nothing ; if our ills are reparable, it is ungrateful j 
if remediless, it is vain. 

iBu0tC. — Collins. 
Music, sphere-descended maid, 
Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid! 


/HU01C. — Slmkspeare. 
T)0 but note a wild and wanton herd, 

Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, 
Which is the hot condition of their Blood ; 
If they but hear perchance a Trumpet sound, 
Or any air of Music touch their ears, 
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, 
By the sweet power of Music : Therefore, the poet 
Did feign, that Orpheus drew Trees, stones, and floods ; 
Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage, 
But Music for the time doth change his nature. 
The man that hath no Music in himself, 
Nor is not moved with Concord of sweet Sounds, 
Is fit for Treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 
The motions of his Spirit are dull as night, 
And his affections dark as Erebus : 
Let no such man be trusted. 

j$tU0tC. — Greville. 
A GOOD ear for music, and a taste for Music are two very differ- 
ent things which are often confounded : and so is comprehend 
ing and enjoying every object of Sense and Sentiment. 

i£lUStC. — Shakspeare. 
T^rHEN griping Grief the Heart doth wound, 

And doleful dumps the Mind oppress, 
Then Music, with her silver sound, 

With speedy help doth lend redress. 

fflUSiC — Moore. 

JV/TUSIC ! — oh ! how faint, how weak, 

Language fades before thy spell ! 
Why should Feeling ever speak, 

When thou can'st breathe her Soul so well ? 
Friendship's balmy words may feign, 

Love's are ev'n more false than they ; 
Oh ! 'tis only Music's strain 

Can sweetly soothe, aad not betray ! 

iHugitC. — Montgomery. 
Through every pulse the Music stole, 
And held sublime communion with the Soul; 
Wrung from the coyest Breast the imprison'd sigh, 
And kindled rapture in the coldest Eye. 

2 11 


fflUBiC — Pope. 

"RY Music, minds an equal temper know, 
Nor swell too high, nor sink too low : 
If in the Breast tumultuous joys arise, 
Music her soft assuasive voice applies ; 

Or, when the Soul is press' d with cares, 

Exalts her in enliv'ning airs. 
Warriors she fires with animated sounds, 
Pours balm into the bleeding Lover's wounds : 

Melancholy lifts her head, 

Morpheus rouses from his bed, 

►Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, 

List'ning Envy drops her snakes; 
Intestine War no more our passions wage, 
And giddy Factions hear away their rage. 

$&U8it. — Seattle. 

TS there a Heart that Music cannot melt 1 
Alas ! how is that rugged heart forlorn ; 
Es there, who ne'er those mystic transports felt 

Of Solitude and Melancholy born ! 

He needs Dot woo the Muse; he is her scorn. 
The sophist's rope of cobweb he shall twine ; 

Mope o'er the schoolman's peevish page ; or mourn, 
And delve for life in Mammon's dirty mine; 
Sneak with the scoundrel Fox, or grunt with glutton Swine. 

JHuStC — Moore. 
T?OR mine is the Lay that lightly floats, 

And mine are the murmuring dying notes, 
That fall as soft as Snow on the sea, 
And melt in the Heart as instantly ! 
And the passionate strain that, deeply going, 

Refines the Bosom it trembles through, 

As the musk-wind, over the water blowing, 

Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too ! 

$ftuStC. — Shalcspeare. 
PREPOSTEROUS ass ! that never read so far 
To know the cause why Music was ordain'd I 
Was it not to refresh the mind of man, 
After his studies, or his usual Pain ? 

j$tU0tC. — Shahspeare. 
This Music crept by me upon the waters ; 
Allaying both their Fury, and my Passion, 
With its sweet Air. 


Jlfl£0ttf& — Chesterfield. 
A PROPER Secrecy is the only mystery of able Men ; Mystery is 
the only Secrecy of weak and cunning ones. 

JHpsterp, — Coiton. 

Mystery magnifies Danger, as a fog the Sun. 

JHgStetJ). — Tom Brown. 
/CONSIDER that the trade of a vintner is a perfect Mystery, (for 
that is the term the law bestows on it;) now, as all Mysteries 
in the world are wholly supported by hard and unintelligible terms, 
so you must take care to christen your Wines by some hard names, 
the farther fetched so much the better; and this policy will serve 
to recommend the most execrable stuff in all your collar. A plau- 
sible name to an indifferent Wine is what a gaudy title is to a Fop, 
or fine clothes to a Woman : it helps to conceal the defects it has, 
and bespeaks the world in its favour. Men naturally love to be 
cheated, and provided the imposition is not too barefaced, will meet 
you half-way with all their Hearts. 

$Jutoet Of £LamtB. — Zimmerman. 
"YyiTH the vulgar, and the learned, Names have great weight ; 
the wise use a writ of inquiry into their legitimacy when they 
are advanced as authorities. 

Carroll) fflirib.— Addison. 

A MAN who has been brought up among Books, and is able to 

talk of nothing else, is a very indifferent companion, and what 

we call a Pedant. But we should enlarge the title, and give it to 

every one that does not know how to think out of his Profession 

and particular way of Life. 

iJlattoto £&iritl. — La Bnu/ere. 
gHORT-SIGHTED people,— I mean such who have but narrow 
Conceptions, never extended beyond their own little sphere, — 
cannot comprehend that universality of Talents which is sometimes 
observable in one person. They allow no solidity in whatever is 
agreeable : or when they see in any one the graces of the Body, 
activity, suppleness, and dexterity, they conclude he wants the en- 
dowments of the Mind, Judgment, Prudence, and Perspicacity 
Let History say what it will, they will not believe that Socrates 
ever danced. 

dFall Of glatitiM. — Bacon. 
I"N the Youth of a state, Arms do flourish : in the Middle Age of 
a state, Learning; and then both of them together for a time; 
iD the Declining Age of a state, Mechanical Arts and Merchandise 


jFall Of Jettons. — Byron. 
THERE is the moral of all human tales; 
'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, 
First Freedom, and then Glory — when that fails, 
Wealth, Vice, Corruption — Barbarism at last. 
And History, with all her volumes vast, 
Hath but one page. 

jjlattonal (Character. — ciay. 

A NATION'S Character is the sum of its splendid deeds; they 

constitute one common patrimony, the nation's inheritance. 

They awe foreign powers, they arouse and animate our own people 

i&atUte.— Young. 

T OOK Nature through, 'tis revolution all ; 

All change ; no Death. Day follows Night ; and Night 
The dying Day : Stars rise, and set, and rise ; 
Earth takes th' example. See, the Summer gay, 
With her green chaplet, and ambrosial flowers, 
Droops into pallid Autumn : Winter gray, 
Horrid with frost, and turbulent with storm, 
Blows Autumn, and his golden fruits, away : 
Then melts into the Spring : soft Spring, with breath 
Favonian, from warm chambers of the south, 
Recalls the first. All, to re-flourish, fades ; 
As in a wheel, all sinks, to reascend. 
Emblems of Man, who passes, not expires. 

Jiattire. — Shakspeare. 
TTATH not old custom made this life more sweet 

Than that of painted Pomp ? Are not these woods 
More free from peril than the envious Court ? 
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
The Season's difference ; as, the icy fang, 
And churlish chiding of the Winter's wind ; 
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, 
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — 
This is no flattery ; these are Counsellors 
That feelingly persuade me what I am. 
And this our Life, exempt from public haunt, 
Finds tongues in Trees, books in the running Brooks, 
Sermons in Stones, and good in every thing. 

jEatUte. — Milton. 
In contemplation of created things 
By steps we may ascend to God. 


Jiaturc — Skakspeare. 

All love the womb that their first beings bred. 

Mature. — Young. 
Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor ; 
Who lives to Fancy, never can be rich. 

Mature. — Thomson. 

Who can paint 
Like Nature ? Can Imagination boast, 
Amid its gay creation, hues like hers ? 
Or can it mix them with that matchless skill, 
And lose them in each other, as appears 
In every Bud that blows ? 

JiatUte.— Byron. 

XTOT vainly did the early Persian make 
His Altar the high places and the peak 

Of earth — o'er gazing mountains, and thus take 
A fit and unwall'd Temple, there to seek 
The Spirit, in whose honour shrines are weak, 

Uprear'd of Human Hands. Come, and compare 
Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth, or Greek, 

With Nature's realms of worship, Earth and Air, 

Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer ! 

fiatUte. — Thomson. 
"W"ATURE ! Great Parent! whose unceasing hand 

Rolls round the seasons of the changeful year, 
How mighty, how majestic, are thy works ! 
With what a pleasing Dread they swell the soul ! 
That sees astonish'd ! and astonish'd sings ! 

Mature. — Byron. 

T IVE not the Stars and Mountains ? Are the waves 

Without a Spirit ? Are the dropping caves 
Without a feeling in their silent Tears ? 
No, No ; — they woo and clasp us to their spheres, 
Dissolve this clog and clod of clay before 
Its hour, and merge our Soul in the great shore. 

ill a t U X t . — Sha kspeare . 
THE Earth, that's Nature's mother, is her tomb; 
What is her burying Grave, that is her womb : 
And from her womb, children of divers kind, 
We sucking on her natural Bosom find ; 
Many for many virtues excellent, 
None but for some, and yet all different. 



3!ahlU. — Bt/ron. 
'J'HERE'S Music in the sighing of a reed; 

There's Music in the gushing of a rill; 
There's Music in all things, if men had ears ; 
Their Earth is but an echo of the spheres. 

iJiatUte. — Byron. 

T^HERE rose the Mountains, there to him were friends ; 
Where roll'd the Ocean, thereon was his home ; 

Where a blue sky, and glowing clime extends, 
He had the Passion and the power to roam : 
The Desert, Forest, Cavern, Breaker's foam, 

Were unto him companionship ; they spake 
A mutual language, clearer than the tone 

Of his land's Tongue, which he would oft forsake 

For Nature's pages glass'd by sunbeams on the lake. 

iHature.— Beattie. 

f\ NATURE, how in every charm supremo ! 

Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new ! 
Oh for the voice and fire of Seraphim, 

To sing thy Glories with devotion due ! 

Blest be the day I 'scaped the wrangling cew, 
From Pyrrho's maze, and Epicurus' sty ; 

And held high converse with the godlike frw, 
Who to th' enraptured Heart, and ear, and eye, 
Teach Beauty, Virtue, Truth, and Love, and Melody 

JlatUre, — Dryden. 
T>Y viewing Nature, Nature's handmaid, Art, 

Makes mighty things from small beginnings grow : 
Thus Fishes first to Shipping did impart, 
Their tail the Rudder, and their head the Prow. 

CEE, through this Air, this Ocean, and this Earth, 

All matter quick, and bursting into birth. 
Above, how high progressive life may go ! 
Around, how wide ! how deep extend below ! 
Vast chain of Being ! which from G-od began, 
Nature's ethereal, human, angel, man; 
Beast, Bird, Fish, Insect — what no eye can see, 
No glass can reach, from infinite to Thee, 
From Thee to nothing. 

£latUtC.— Juvenal. 
Nature never says that which Wisdom will contradict. 


l&ature. — c&wper. 

Scenes must be beautiful which daily view'd 
Please daily, and whose novelty survives 
Long Knowledge and the scrutiny of Years. 

Jfiattire, — Shdkspeare. 
OH, mickle is the powerful grace that lies 

In Herbs, Plants, Stones, and their true qualities : 
For naught so vile, that on the earth doth live, 
But to the Earth some special good doth give ; 
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use, 
Eevolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse ; 
Virtue itself turns Vice, being misapplied; 
And Vice sometime's by action dignified. 

Iliatttre. — Anon. 

A NY tiling may become Nature to Man : the rare thing is to find 
a Nature that is truly natural. 

i^atlire. — Anon. 
Jtf ATURE is mighty. Art is mighty. Artifice is weak. For 
Nature is the work of a mightier power than Man. Art is the 
work of Man under the guidance and inspiration of a mightier 
power. Artifice is the work of mere Man in the imbecility of his 
mimic understanding. 

jUattlte. — Longfellow. 
"ptfATURE alone is permanent. Fantastic idols may be worshipped 
for awhile ; but at length they are overturned by the continual 
and silent progress of Truth, as the grim statues of Copan have 
been pushed from their pcde^als by the growth of forest-trees, 
whose seeds were sown by the wind in the ruined walls. 

(SOOti ilature.— Dryden. 
/^j-OOD Sense and Good Nature are never separated, though the 
ignorant world has thought otherwise. Good Nature, by 
which I mean Beneficence and Candour, is the product of Eight 

Cfje i^egattbe. — Grevau. 

'INHERE is in some men a dispassionate Neutrality of Mind, 
which, though it generally passes for Good Temper, can neither 
gratify nor warm us : it must indeed be granted that these men can 
only negatively offend; but then it should also be remembered that 
they cannot positively please. 

3T|)e Jiegattfce. — Lavater. 
TTE that has no Friend and no Enemy is one of the vulgar; and 
without Talents, Powers, or Energy. 


CijC Jiegattbe* — Shenstone. 
TITHAT numbers live to the age of fifty or sixty years ! yet, if 
estimated by their Merit, are not worth the price of a Chick 
the moment it is hatched. 

Cf)e $Lt\toWa$W.— Bishop HorTie. 
'THE follies, vices, and consequent miseries of multitudes, dis- 
played in a Newspaper, are so many admonitions and warnings, 
so many Beacons, continually burning, to turn others from the 
Rocks on which they have been shipwrecked. 

iRetoSpaper JftarbelS. — Fisher Ames. 
TT seems really as if our Newspapers were busy to spread super- 
stition. Omens, and dreams, and prodigies are recorded, as if 
they were worth minding. The increasing fashion for printing 
wonderful tales of crimes and accidents is worse than ridiculous, as 
it corrupts both the public taste and morals. It multiplies fables, 
prodigious monsters, and crimes, and thus makes shocking things 
familiar; while it withdraws all popular attention from familiar 
truth, because it is not shocking. Surely, extraordinary events 
have not the best title to our studious attention. To study nature 
or man, we ought to know things that are in the ordinary course, 
not the unaccountable things that happen out of it. 

i&tgfjt. — Shakspeare. 
TTOW sweet the Moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 

Here will we sit, and let the sounds of Music 
Creep in our ears ; soft Stillness, and the Night 
Become the touches of sweet Harmony. 
Look, how the floor of Heav'n 
Is thick inlaid with patines jf bright gold ; 
There's not the smallest Orb, which thou behold' st, 
But in his motion like an Angel sings, 
Still quiring to the young-eyed Cherubins ; 
Such harmony is in immortal sounds ! 
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it. 

iEtgf)t. — Spenser. 
TJNDER thy mantle black ther hidden lye 

Light-shonning Thefte, and traiterous Intent, 
Abhorr'd Bloodshed, and vile Felony, 

Shameful Deceipt and Daunger imminent, 
Fowle Horror, and eke Hellish Dreriment. 

iHtgfjt. — Byron. 

The Night 
Shows Stars and Women in a better light. 


jatgf)t Byron. 

,r riS Midnight: on the Mountain's brown 

The cold, round Moon shines deeply down : 
Blue roll the waters, blue the sky 
Spreads like an Ocean hung on high, 
Bespangled with those isles of ight, 
So wildly, spiritually bright; 
Who ever gazed upon them shining, 
And turn'd to Earth without repining, 
Nor wish'd for Wings to flee away, 
And mix with their eternal ray. 

JItgi)t. — Young. 
'THE Sun went down in clouds, and seem'd to mourn 

The sad necessity of his return ; 
The hollow wind, and melancholy rain, 
Or did, or was imagined, to complain : 
The tapers cast an inauspicious light ; 
Stars there were none, and doubly dark the Night. 

i2,tgt)t. — Spenser. 
"foTOW gan the golden Phoebus for to steepe 

His fierie face in billowes of the west, 
And his faint Steedes watred in Ocean deepe. 
Whiles from their journall labours they did rest. 

JLtjjfjt. — Spenser. 

TITHERE griesly Night, with visage deadly sad, 
That Phoebus' chearefull face dust never vew, 

And in a foul e blacke pitchy Mantle clad, 

She findes forth coming from her darksome mew, 
Where she all day did hide her hated hew ; 

Before the dore her yron Charet stood 
Already harnessed for a journey new; 

And coleblacke steeds yborne of Hellish brood, 

That on their rusty bits did champ as they were wood. 

£f)e PA^X, — Milton. 
TTTHY sleep'st thou, Eve? now is the pleasant time, 

The cool, the silent, save where Silence yields 
To the Night-warbling Bird, that now awake, 
Tunes sweetest his love-labour'd song ; now reigns 
Full-nrb'd the Moon, and with more pleasing light 
Shadowy sets-off the face of things; in vain, 
If none regard. 


Cfjei^iflilk— Byron. 

In her starry shade 
Of dim and solitary Loveliness, 
I learn the language of another World. 

&f)e i&tg|)t —Byron. 

All is gentle : naught 
Stirs rudely ; but congenial with the Night, 
Whatever walks is gliding like a Spirit. 

CJ)eilit3i)t. — Byron. 
TTOW sweet and soothing is this hour of Calm ! 

I thank thee, Night ! for thou hast chased away 
These horrid bodements which, amidst the throng. 
I could not dissipate : and with the Blessing 
Of thy benign and quiet influence 
Now will I to my couch, although to rest 
Is almost wronging such a Night as this. 

How beautiful is Night ! 
A dewy freshness fills the silent air, 
No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, 

Breaks the serene of Heaven : 
In full orb'd Glory yonder Moon divine 

Rolls through the dark blue depths. 
Beneath her steady ray 
The desert circle spreads 
Like the round Ocean, girdled with the sky. 

Jitgf)t. — Young. 
£)ARKNESS has divinity for me j 

It strikes thought inward ; it drives back the Soul 
To settle on herself, our point supreme ! 
There lies our Theatre : there sits our judge. 
Darkness the curtain drops o'er Life's dull scene; 
'Tis the kind hand of Providence stretch' d out 
'Twixt Man and Yanity : 'tis Reason's reign, 
And Virtue's too ; these tutelary shades 
Are Man's asylum from the tainted throng. 
Night is the good man's friend, and guardian too; 
It no less rescues Virtue, than inspires. 

iEt0!)t. — Shakspeare. 
T)ARK Night, that from the Eye his function takes, 

The Ear more quick of Apprehension makes ; 
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, 
It pays the hearing double recompense. 


Cfje Jitirijt. — Young. 
"^"IGHT, sable Goddess ! from her ebon throne, 

In rayless Majesty, now stretches forth 
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumb'ring world. 
Silence, how dead ! and Darkness, how profound ! 
Nor eye, nor list'ning ear, an object finds ; 
Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse 
Of Life stood still, and Nature made a pause ; 
An awful pause ! prophetic of her end. 

Cf)C iRtgt)t — Young. 
T'HIS sacred Shade, and Solitude, what is it ? 

'Tis the felt presence of the Deity. 
Few are the faults we flatter when alone. 
Vice sinks in her allurements, is ungilt, 
And looks, like other objects, black by Night. 
By Night an Atheist half-believes a God. 

Cfje i&tgf) t. — Young. 
TTOW is Night's sable mantle labour'd o'er, 

How richly wrought with attributes divine ! 
What Wisdom shines ! what Love ! This Midnight pomp, 
This gorgeous Arch, with golden worlds inlaid ! 
Built with divine Ambition. 

Cije isugfjtmgale, — shakspeare. 

'THE Nightingale, if she should sing by day, 

When every Goose is cackling, would be thought 
No better a Musician than the wren. 
How many things by season season'd are 
To their right praise and true Perfection ! 

Cf)e Jitgfjtmgale.— Milton. 

Q NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray 
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still ; 

Thou with fresh hope the Lover's heart doth fill, 
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. 
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of Day, 

First heard before the shallow Cuckoo's bill, 

Portend success in Love ; Oh, if Jove's will 
Have link'd that amorous power to thy soft lay, 

Now timely sing, ere the rude Bird of hate 
Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh ; 

As thou from year to year hast sung too late 
For my relief, yet had'st no reason why : 

Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate, 
Both them I serve, and of their train am I. 


Cfje Jitfljthijjale.— -MMm. 

Sweet Bird that shunn'st the noise of folly, 
Most musical, most Melancholy ! 

Cf)e iBLigf) tin gale, — Southern. 
Thus perch'd all Night alone in shady groves, 
Tunes her soft voice to sad complaints of Love, 
Making her life one great harmonious wo. 

i&OtnlttJ). — Spenser. 
^AIN-GrLORIOUS Man, when fluttering wind does blow 
In his light winges, is lifted up to skye ; 
The scorne of Knighthood and trew Chevalrye, 
To thinke, without desert of gentle deed, 
And noble worth, to be advanced hye, 
Such Praise is shame; but Honour, Vertue's meed, 
Doth bear the fayrest flowre in honourable seed. 

jEolulttn.— Joanna Baillie. 
Even to the dullest Peasant standing by, 
Who fasten'd still on him a wondering Eye, 
He seem'd the master spirit of the Land. 

i&Obeltg. — Shakspeare. 

New Customs, 
Though they be never so ridiculous, 
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd. 

<£atf)£u — Shakspeare. 
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish Vows ; 
They are polluted Offerings, more abhorr'd 
Than spotted livers in the Sacrifice. 

(©atf)0» — Shakspeare. 

Do not give Dalliance 
Too much the rein ; the strongest Oaths are straw 
To the fire i' the Blood ; be more abstemious, 
Or else ! 

<©atf)#. — Butler. 
r^ATHS were not purposed, more than Law, 

To keep the good and just in awe, 
But to confine the bad and sinful, 
Like moral Cattle, in a pinfold. 

(©foetlteitce. — Shakspeare. 
Let them obey that know how to rule. 

(©fct&tettCC. — Goldsmith. 
17ILTAL Obedience is the first and greatest requisite of a State ; 
by this we become good subjects to our Emperors, capable of 


behaving with just subordination to our superiors, and grateful 
dependants on Heaven; by this we become fonder of Marriage, in 
order to be capable of exacting Obedience from others in our turn : 
by this we become good Magistrates ; for early Submission is the 
truest lesson to those who would learn to rule. By this the whole 
State may be said to resemble one Family. 

(BMiqatimi. — La Rochefoucauld. 
\\TE are always much better pleased to see those whom we have 
obliged, than those who have obliged us. 

(DuSerbattcm. — Lavater. 
TTE alone is an acute Observer, who can observe minutely with 
out being observed. 

Ohserbatton.— wm. 

T>ERHAPS there is no property in which men are more strikingly 
distinguished from each other, than in the various degrees in 
which they possess this faculty of Observation. The great herd of 
mankind, the " fruges consumere nati," pass their lives in listless in- 
attention and indifference as to what is going on around them, being 
perfectly content to satisfy the mere cravirjgs of nature, while those 
who are destined to distinction have a lynx-eyed vigilauce that 
nothing can escape. You see nothing of the Paul Pry in them ; 
yet they know all that is passing, and keep a perfect reckoning, not 
only of every interesting passage, but of all the characters of the 
age who have any concern in them. 

Uulgat (Dustmacj). — Swift. 

There are lew, very few, that will own themselves in a Mistake. 

Small (Offences. — Grevffle. 

A VERY Small Offence may be a just cause for great Resent- 
ment; it is often much less the particular instance which is 
obnoxious to us, than the proof it carries with it of the general 
tenor and disposition of the Mind from whence it sprung. 

(©CCUpattOn. — Sir PMip Sidney. 
"PVERY base Occupation makes one sharp in its practice, and 
dull in every other. 

(DSlCC. — Shakspeare. 
'THOU hast seen a Farmer's dog bark at a beggar ? 

And the Creature run from the Cur ? 
There thou might'st behold the great image of Authority : a Dog'g 
obeyed in Office. 

(Df&Ce. — Shakspeare. 
Could great men thunder 
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, 



For every pelting, petty Officer 

Would use his Heaven for thunder : nothing but thunder.— 

Merciful Heaven ! 

Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, 

Split'sl. the unwedgeable and gnarled Oak, 

Than the soft Myrtle !— Oh ! but Man, proud Man, 

Brest in a little brief Authority — 

Most ignorant of what he's most assured, 

His glassy essence, — like an angry Ape, 

Plays such fantastic tricks before high Heaven, 

As make the Angels weep. 

(©mtSStOn. — Shakspeare. 
Q MISSION to do what is necessary 

Seals a commission to a blank of Danger ; 
And Danger, like an ague, subtly taints 
Even then when we sit idly in the sun. 

(©prnton.— Swift, 

HPHAT was excellently observed, say I, when I read a passage in 
an Author, where his Opinion agrees with mine. 

Opttttmt. — Colton. 
TT will be possible to have one set of Opinions for the high, and 
"*■ another for the low, only when they cease to see by the same 
Sun, to respire by the same Air, and to feel by the same Senso- 
rium. For Opinions, like showers, are generated in high places, 
but they invariably descend into low ones, and ultimately flow 
down to the People, as the rains unto the Sea. 

(Bpinitm. — Cicero. 
^"0 liberal man would impute a charge of Unsteadiness to another 
for having changed his opinion. 

(©pportumtj). — Shakspeare. 

Take the instant way ; 
For Honour travels in a strait so narrow, 
Where one but goes abreast : keep then the path : 
For Emulation hath a thousand sons, 
That one by one pursue : If you give way, 
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, 
Like to an enter'd Tide, they all rush by, 
And leave you hindmost; — 
Or, like a gallant Horse fallen in first rank, 
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, 
O'er-run and trampled on. 


Opportunity. — Shakspeare. 

TTNRULY blasts wait on the tender spring ; 

Unwholesome weeds take root with precious flowers ; 
The Adder hisses where the sweet birds sing ; 

What Virtue breeds, Iniquity devours : 

We have no good that we can say is ours : 
But ill annexed Opportunity 
Or kills his life, or else his quality. 

O Opportunity ! thy G-uilt is great : 
'Tis thou that execut'st the traitor's Treason ; 

Thou set'st the Wolf where he the Lamb may get; 
Whoever plots the Sin, thou 'point'st the Season ; 
'Tis thou that spurn'st at right, at law, at reason; 
And in thy shady cell, where none may spy him, 
Sits Sin, to seize the Souls that wander by him. 
Thou mak'st the Vestal violate her oath : 

Thou blow'st the fire when Temperance is thaw'd ; 
Thou smother'st Honesty, thou murder'st Troth ; 

Thou foul abettor ! thou notorious bawd ! 

Thou plantest Scandal and displacest laud : 
Thou ravisher, thou Traitor, thou false thief, 
Thy Honey turns to gall, thy joy to grief! 

Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame, 
Thy private feasting to a public fast ; 

Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name ; 
Thy sugar' d tongue to bitter Wormwood taste : 
Thy violent Vanities can never last. 
How comes it then, vile Opportunity, 
Being so bad, such numbers seek for thee ? 

When wilt thou be the humble suppliant's friend, 
And bring him where his suit may be obtain'd ? 

When wilt thou sort an hour great strifes to end ? 
Or free that soul which Wretchedness hath chain'd ? 
Give Physic to the sick, Ease to the pain'd ? 
The poor, lame, blind, halt, creep, cry out for thee ; 
But they ne'er meet with Opportunity. 
The Patient dies while the Physician sleeps; 

The Orphan pines while the Oppressor feeds; 
Justice is feasting while the Widow weeps; 

Advice is sporting while Infection breeds ; 

Thou grant'st no time for charitable deeds; 
Wrath, Envy, Treason, Rape, and Murder's rages, 
Thy heinous hours wait on them as their pages. 

When Truth and Virtue have to do with Thee, 
A thousand crosses keep them from thy aid; 


They buy thy help : but Sin ne'er gives a fee, 
He gratis comes j and thou art well appay'd, 
As well to hear as grant what he hath said. 
Guilty thou art of Murder and of Theft; 

Guilty of Perjury and Subornation ; 
Guilty of Treason, Forgery, and Shift ; 

Guilty of Incest, that abomination : 

An accessary by thine inclination 
To all sins past, and all that are to come, 
From the Creation to the General Doom. 

©PPOttimttg- — ShaJcspeare. 
'J'HERE is a Tide hf the affairs of men, 

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to Fortune; 
Omitted, all the voyage of their Life 
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries : 
And we must take the Current when it serves, 
Or lose our ventures. 

(©PPOrtimttg. — ShaJcspeare. 

He had not dined : 
The veins unfill'd, our Blood is cold, and then 
We pout upon the morning, are unapt 
To give or to forgive : but when we have stuff' d 
These Pipes and these conveyances of our Blood 
With wine and feeding, we have suppler Souls. 

©PPOttUttttg. — ShaJcspeare. 
A little Fire is quickly trodden out ; 
Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench. 

(©PPOrtimttJ), — Pliny. 
JJO man possesses a genius so commanding that he can attain 
Eminence, unless a subject suited to his talents should present 
itself, and an Opportunity occur for their development. 

(DpportUttttg, — Greville. 
'THERE sometimes wants only a stroke of Fortune to discover 
numberless latent good or bad qualities, which would otherwise 
have been eternally concealed j as words written with a certain 
liquor appear only when applied to the Fire. 

©pportUttttP. — From the Latin. 
OPPORTUNITY has Hair in front, behind she is bald ; if you 
seize her by the forelock, you may hold her, but, if suffered to 
escape, not Jupiter himself can catch her again. 

(DppreSStCin. — ShaJcspeare. 
The smallest Worm will turn, being trodden on ; 
And Doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. 


©ppteSSCOn. — Shakspeare. 

You must not think, 
That we are made of stuff so flat and dull, 
That we can let our Beard be shook with Danger, 
And think it Pastime. 

(DppceSStOn. — Tacitus. 
A DESIRE to resist Oppression is implanted in the nature of 
A Man. 

Cfje (Drator. — Pnor. 

AND 'tis remarkable, that they 

Talk most that have the least to say. 
Your dainty Speakers have the curse, 
To plead their causes down to worse : 
As Dames, who native Beauty want, 
Still uglier look the more they paint. 

Cf)e <&XatOt. — Spenser. 
THEREFORE the vulgar did about him flocke, 

And cluster thicke unto his leasings vaine, 
(Like foolish Flies about an Hony-crocke,) 
In hope by him great benefite to gaine, 
And uncontrolled Freedome to obtaine. 

(DrtfCt antJ <&bt*tiimct. — S/tak.ycare. 
"WHILE that the armed Hand doth fight abroad, 

The advised Head defends itself at home : 
For Government, though high, and low, and lower, 
Put into parts, doth keep in one consent ; 
Congruing in a full and natural close, 

Like Music 

Therefore doth Heaven divide 
The state of Man in divers functions, 
Setting endeavour in continual motion; 
To which is fixed, as an aim or butt, 
Obedience : for so work the Honey-bees ; 
Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach 
The act of order to a peopled Kingdom. 
They have a King, and Officers of sorts : 
Where some, like Magistrates, correct at home ; 
Others, like Merchants, venture trade abroad; 
Others, like Soldiers, armed in their stings, 
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds • 
Which pillage they with meiry march bring home 
To the tent-royal of their Emperor : 
Who, bu>ied in his Majesty, surveys 


The singing Masons, building roofs of gold j 
The civil Citizens kneading up the honey ; 
The poor mechanic porters crowding in 
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ; 
The sad-eyed Justice, with his surly hum, 
Delivering o'er to executors pale, 
The lazy yawning Drone. I this infer, — 
That many things, having full reference 
To one consent, may work contrariously : 
As many Arrows, loosed several ways, 
Fly to one mark ; 

As many several ways meet in one Town ; 
As many fresh streams run in one self Sea* 
As many lines close in the Dial's centre ; 
So may a thousand actions, once afoot, 
End in one purpose, and be all well borne 
Without defeat. 

(©rigtnalttg. — Coiton. 

1VTEN of strong minds, and who think for themselves, should not 
be discouraged on finding occasionally that some of their best 
Ideas have been anticipated by former writers j they will neither 
anathematize others with a pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerint, 
nor despair themselves. They will rather go on in Science, like 
John Hunter in Physics, discovering things before discovered, until, 
like him, they are rewarded with a terra, hitherto incognita in the 
Sciences, an Empire indisputably their own, both by right of con- 
quest and of Discovery. 

(©rtgtttalttg. — Anon. 

They who have Light in themselves, will not revolve as Satellites. 

Ornament. — Shakspeare. 
TOEING- season'd with a gracious voice, 

Obscures the show of evil. In Religion, 
What damned error, but some sober brow 
Will bless it, and approve it with a text, 
Hiding the grossness with fair Ornament? 

^axatim. — 3futon. 

"^JNDER a tuft of shade that on the green 

Stood whisp'ring soft, by a fresh Fountain side 
They sat them down ; and after no more toil 
Of their sweet gard'ning labour than sufficed 
To recommend cool Zephyr, and made Ease 
More easy, wholesome Thirst and Appetite 
More grateful, to their supper fruits they fell. 


parliaments. — Franklin. 

Tin?/ assemble Parliaments and Councils, to have the benefit of 
tneir collected Wisdom ; but we necessarily have, at the same 
*ime, the inconveniences of their collected passions, prejudices, and 
private interests. By the help of these, artful men overpower their 
Wisdom, and dupe its possessors. 

patting. — Shalspeare. 
What ! gone without a word? 
Ay, so true Love should do : it cannot speak ; 
For Truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. 

IPartg SptCtt. — Washington. 
'THERE is an opinion that Parties in free countries are useful 
checks upon the administration of the government, and serve to 
keep alive the spirit of liberty. This, within certain limits, is 
probably true ; and, in governments of a monarchical cast, pa- 
triotism may look with indulgence, if not with favour, upon the 
spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, in govern- 
ments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From 
their natural tendency, it is certain there will always be enough of 
that spirit for every salutary purpose. And there being constant 
danger of excess, the effort ought to be, by force of public opinion, 
to mitigate and assuage it. A fire not to be quenched, it demands 
a uniform vigilance to prevent it bursting into a flame, lest, instead 
of warming, it should consume. 

&f)e ^aSStOnS. — Spenser. 
T^THAT Warre so cruel, or what siege so sore 
As that which strong affections doe apply 
Against the forte of Reason evermore, 

To bring the Soul into captivity ? 

Their force is fiercer through infirmity 
Of the fraile Flesh, relenting to their rage, 

And exercise most bitter tyranny 
Upon the partes, brought into their bondage : 
No wretchedness is like to sinful villenage. 

Ef)e ^aSStOltg. — Byron. 
A LAS ! our young Affections run to waste, 

Or water but the desert; whence arise 
But weeds of dark Luxuriance, Tares of haste, 
Rank at the core, though tempting to the eyes, 
Flowers whose wild odours breathe but agonies, 
And trees whose gums are poison; such the plants 
Which spring beneath her steps as Passion flies 
O'er the World's wilderness, and vainly pants 
For some celestial fruit, forbidden to our wants. 


Cf)e tyamonz.—LMo. 

Exalted souls, 
Have Passions in proportion violent, 
Resistless, and tormenting : they're a tax 
Imposed by Nature on pre-eminence, 
And Fortitude, and Wisdom must support them. 

WtyZ tyamonZ. — Moore. 

A LAS ! too well, too well they know, 

The pain, the penitence, the Wo, 
That Passion brings down on the best, 
The wisest and the loveliest. 

Cf)e ^asstoras. — Crabu. 

(}H how the Passions, insolent and strong, 

Bear our weak minds their rapid course along; 
Make us the madness of their will obey; 
Then die, and leave us to our griefs a Prey ! 

Wi)Z 13a0!StOraL — Byron. 
CHE stopt, and raised her head to speak, but paused 

And then moved on again with rapid pace; 
Then slacken'd it, which is the march most caused 

By deep Emotion : you may sometimes trace 
A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed 

By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased 
By all the demons of all Passions, show'd 
Their work even by the way in which he trode. 

Cfje ^amonz. — Burke. 

T N doing good, we are generally cold, and languid, and sluggish ; 
and of all things afraid of being too much in the right. But 
the works of Malice and Injustice are quite in another style. They 
are finished with a bold masterly hand ; touched as they are with 
the Spirit of- those vehement Passions that call forth all our Ener- 
gies, whenever we oppress and persecute. 

Cije ItoStOttS. — Scott. 
TTIS soul, like bark with rudder lost, 

On Passion's changeful tide was tost ; 
Nor Vice nor Virtue had the power 
Beyond the impression of the hour; 
And oh, when Passion rules, how rare 
The hours that fall to Virtue's share. 

W§z ^amanz.— Fuller. 

TTOLD not Conference, debate, or Reasoning with any Lust; tis 
but a preparatory for thy Admission of it. The way is at the 
very first flatly to deny it. 

/?, T II IN G S XE W A XI) L D. 399 

Cf)e $JaSStOnS. — Shaftesbury. 
A MAX is by nothing so much himself, as by his Temperand the 
character of his Passions and Affections. If he loses what is 
manly and worthy in these, he is as much lost to himself, as when 
he loses his Memory and Understanding. 

Ct)e $as80tOW5. — Cumberland. 
TPHE Passions may be humoured till they become our master, as 
a Horse may be pampered till he gets the better of his rider ; 
but early discipline will prevent Mutiny, and keep the helm in the 
hands of Reason. 

Cfje passions. — miotson. 

TC~0 man's body is as strong as his appetites, but Heaven has cor- 
rected the boundlessness of his voluptuous desires by stinting 
his strength and contracting his capacities. 

Cf)e ^aSSUmS. — Byron. 
'THE Nightingale that sings with the deep thorn, 

Which Fable places in her breast of wail, 
Is lighter far of Heart and voice than those 
Whose headlong Passions form their proper Woes. 

Cije ^88810110. — Claudian. 
TyHAT profits us, that we from Heaven derive 

A Soul immortal, and with looks erect 
Survey the stars, if, like the brutal kind, 
We follow where our Passions lead the way ? 

Qll)Z ^aSStOTlS.— La Rochefoucauld. 
r rHE Passions are the only orators that always persuade : they are, 
as it were, a natural Art, the rules of which are infallible ; and 
the simplest man, with Passion, is more persuasive than the most 
eloquent without it. 

2Tf)e $JaiS0tOtt0. — From the French. 
T'HE Passions act as Winds to propel our vessel, our Reason is 
the Pilot that steers her; without the Winds she would not 
move, without the Pilot she would be lost. 

Cfje passions. — Sprat. 

T>ASSION is the great mover and spring of the Soul ; when men's 
Passions are strongest, they may have great and noble Effects; 
but they are then also apt to fall into the greatest miscarriages. 

Cf)e ¥a&«Ottg.— Lavater. 

TJE submits to be seen through a microscope, who suffers himself 
to be caught in a fit of Passion. 


T&aWiim. — Johnson. 

'THE round of a passionate man's life is in contracting debts in 
his Passion, which his Virtue obliges him to pay. He spends 
his time in Outrage and acknowledgment, injury and Reparation. 

passions, — Coiton. 

DRINCES rule the People ; and their own Passions rule Princes ; 
but Providence can overrule the whole, and draw the instru- 
ments of his inscrutable purpose from the Vices, no less than from 
the Virtues of Kings. 

^aS8tOtt0. — Longfellow. 
OUR passions never wholly die ; but in the last cantos of life's 
romantic epos, they rise up again and do battle, like some of 
Ariosto's heroes, who have already been quietly interred, and ought 
to be turned to dust. 

Cf)0 <£0utl ^agtOr,— Byron. 
"PATHER ! thy days have pass'd in peace, 

'Mid counted beads, and countless Prayer; 
To bid the sins of others cease, 
Thyself without a crime or care, 
Save transient ills that all must bear, 
Has been thy lot, from Youth to Age. 

patience.— Fuller. 

JF the Wicked flourish, and thou suffer, be not discouraged. They 
are fatted for Destruction : thou are dieted for Health. 

^attettce. — Shakspeare. 
How poor are they that have not Patience ! 
What wound did ever heal, but by degrees ? 

patience. — Shakspeare. 
Patience — 
Of whose soft grace, I have her sovereign aid, 
And rest myself content. 

patience* — Shakspeare. 

I DO note, 
That Grief and Patience, rooted in him both, 
Mingle their spurs together. 

Grow, Patience ! 
And let the stinking elder, Grief, untwine 
His perishing root, with the increasing Vine ! 

patriotism. — Shakspeare. 
[TAD I a dozen sons, — each in my love alike, — I had rather haa 
eleven die nobly for their county, than one voluptuously sur- 
feit out of Action. 


patriotism. — Sir W. Jones. 

What constitutes a State ? 
Not high-raised Battlerneat or labour'd mound, 

Thick wall or moated Grate ; 
Not cities proud with spires and turrets crown' d ; 

Not bays and broad-arm'd ports, 
Where, laughing at the storm, rich Navies ride ; 

Not starr'd and spangled courts, 
Where low-brow'd baseness wafts perfume to Pride. 

No : — men, high-minded ivien, 
With Powers as far above dull brutes endued, 

In forest, brake, or den, 
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude ; 

Men, who their Duties know, 
But know their Rights, and knowing, dare maintain, 

Prevent the long-aim'd blow, 
And crush the Tyrant, while they rend the chain : 

These constitute a State. 

patriotism.— Pope. 

gTATESMAN, yet friend to Truth ! of soul sincere, 

In action faithful, and in Honour clear ! 
Who broke no promise, served no private end, 
Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend; 
Ennobled by himself, by all approved, 
Praised, wept, and honour'd by the Muse he loved. 

^eace. — Shakspeare. 
'Tis death to me, to be at Enmity; 
I hate it, and desire all good men's Love. 

^Jeace. —Petrarch. 
T7IVE great enemies to Peace inhabit with us, viz. Avarice, Am- 
bition, Envy, Anger, and Pride, and that if those enemies wero 
to be banished, we should infallibly enjoy perpetual Peace. 

^jJeace, — ShaJcspeare. 
I do not know that Englishman alive, 
With whom my Soul is any jot at odds, 
More than the infant that is born to-night. 

feasant Utfe.— Goldsmith. 
nTHEIR level life is but a mould'ring fire, 

Unquench'd by Want, unfanu'd by strong Desire : 
Unfit for raptures, or, if raptures cheer 
On some high festival of once a year, 
In wild Excess the vulgar breast takes fire, 
Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire. 


feasant ?itfe. — Fletcher. 
TTTS bed of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps, 

While by his side his faithful spouse hath place ; 
His little Son into his bosom creeps, 

The lively picture of his father's face : 
Never his humble house nor state torment him ; 
Less he could like, if less his God had sent him ! 
And when he dies, green turfs, with grassy tomb, content 

^enettattOn. — La Rochefoucauld. 
V\nS like to divine others, but we do not like to be divined our- 

penetration. — Grwffle. 

PENETRATION seems a kind of inspiration ; it gives me an 
idea of Prophecy. 

^ettetCattOn. — La Rochefoucauld. 
pENETRATION has an air of divination, which natters our Va- 
nity more than all the other qualities of the Mind. 

penetration. —La Rochefoucauld. 
HPHE greatest fault in Penetration is not the not reaching the 
mark, but overshooting it. 

JioiSg persons.— Pope. 
TT is with narrow-souled people as with narrow-necked Bottles, 
the less they have in them, the more noise they make in pouring 
it out. 

ItettretJ persons. —Goldsmith. 
TT has been said that he who retires to solitude is either a Beast 
or an Angel. The censure is too severe, and the praise un 
merited. The discontented being who retires from society is gene- 
rally some good-natured man, who has begun his Life without 
Experience, and knew not how to gain it in his intercourse with 

^erfeetton. — Voltaire. 

PERFECTION is attained by slow degrees ; she requires the hand 
of Time. 

^erfeettOn. — Shakspeare. 
In speech, in gait, 
In diet, in affections of delight, 
In Military rules, humours of blood, 
He was the Mark and glass, copy and Book, 
That fashion'd others. 


perfection. — Chesterfield. 
A IM at Perfection in every thing, though in most things it is un- 
attainable. However, they who aim at it, and persevere, will 
come much nearer to it than those whose Laziness and Despondency 
make them give it up as unattainable. 

perfection. — Shakspeare. 
TO gild refined Gold, to paint the Lily, 

To throw a perfume on the Violet, 
To smooth the Ice, or add another hue 
Unto the Rainbow, or with taper-light 
To seek the beauteous eye of Heaven to garnish, 
Is wasteful, and ridiculous. 

^lerseberance. — Lucretius. 

A falling Drop at last will cave a Stone. 

^erseberance. — From the Latin. 

TTE will never enjoy the sweets of the spring, nor will he obtain 
the Honeycombs of Mount Hybla, if he dreads his face being 
stuno;, or is annoyed by Briers. The Rose is guarded by its Thorn, 
the Honey is defended by the Bee. 

Verbetgttg GreoiUe. 

QOME men put ine in mind of Half-bred Horses, which often 
grow worse in proportion as you feed and exercise them for 

13erbeCSttJ). —From the Latin. 
We have all a propensity to grasp at Forbidden Fruit. 

^3i)tlantl)C0P5. — Cumberland. 
TT is an old saying, that Charity begins at home ; but this is no 
reason it should not go abroad : a man should live with the 
world as a Citizen of the World j he may have a preference for the 
particular quarter or square, or even alley in which he lives, but 
he should have a generous feeling for the welfare of the whole. 

^JfjtlOSOpjjetS. — Shakspeare. 
HPHERE was never yet Philosopher 

That could endure the Toothache patiently, 
However they have writ the style of Gods, 
And made a push at chance and sufferance. 

^JfjtlOSOpfjJ). — ShaJcspeare. 
Adversity's sweet milk — Philosophy. 

13f)tU)g0pf)g. — Voltaire. 
r PHE discovery of what is true, and the practice of that which ih 
good, are the two most important objects of Philosophy. 



r PHE Philosopher will draw his estimate of Human Nature, by 
varying as much as possible his own situation, to multiply the 
points of view under which he observes her. Uncircumscribed by 
lines of latitude or of longitude, he will examine her "buttoned up 
and laced in the forms and ceremonies of Civilization, and at her 
ease, and unrestrained in the light and feathered Costume of the 
Savage." He will also associate with the highest, without servility, 
and with the lowest, without vulgarity. 

^f)tl0S0pf)g, — Epktetus. 
TT is the peculiar quality and character of an undisciplined man, 
and a Man of the World, to expect no advantage, and to appre- 
hend no mischief from himself, but all from objects without him. 
Whereas the Philosopher, quite contrary, looks only inward, and 
apprehends no good or evil can happen to him, but from himself 

3P{)tlClSOpf)2* — Seneca. 
"PHILOSOPHY is the art and law of Life, and it teaches us what 
to do in all cases, and, like good Marksmen, to hit the white at 
any distance. 

3Pf)tlO0Opf)l).— Cowley. 
'TO be a Husbandman, is but a retreat from the city ; to be a 
Philosopher, from the world, as it is Man's; into the world, as 
it is God's. 

^jUlOSOpfjp. — Seneca. 
"PHILOSOPHY does not regard pedigree : she did not receive 
Plato as a noble, but she made him so. 

3P{)tlCl80pf)J). — Selden. 
T^HEN men comfort themselves with Philosophy, 'tis not because 
they have got two or three sentences, but because they have 
digested those sentences, and made them their own : so upon the 
matter, Philosophy is nothing but Discretion. 

$f)tlO0Opfjg* — Shaftesbury. 
T'O philosophize in a just signification, is but to carry Good Breed- 
ing a step higher. For the accomplishment of breeding is, to 
learn what is decent in company, or beautiful in arts; and the sum 
of Philosophy is, to learn what is just in society, and beautiful in 
Nature and the order of the world. 

^JjtlOSOplvj). _ Tillotson. 
T3HIL0S0PHY hath given us several plausible rules for attain- 
ing Peace and Tranquillity of Mind, but they fall very much 
short of bringing men to it. 


^fjtlOSOpfjJ), — La Rochefoucauld. 
PHILOSOPHY triumphs easily over past, and over future Evils, 
but present Evils triumph over Philosophy. 

|Jf)tl(l0OpJB*— Thomson. 

Philosophy consists not 
In airy schemes, or idle speculations ; 
The rule and conduct of all social life 
Is her great Province. Not in lonely cells 
Obscure she lurks, but holds her heavenly light 
To Senates and to Kings, to guide their councils, 
And teach them to reform and bless mankind. 

^f)tl0S0pf);P-— Pope. 
TN lazy Apathy let Stoics boast 

Their Virtue fiVd ; 'tis fix'd as in a frost ; 
Contracted all, retiring to the breast ; 
But strength of mind is exercise, not rest : 
The rising Tempest puts in act the soul; 
Parts it may ravage, but preserves the whole 

^f)tlO0O|)5t).— Moore. 
OUCH was the rigid Zeno's plan 
To form his philosophic man ; 
Such were the modes he taught mankind 
To weed the Garden of the mind : 
They tore away some Weeds, 'tis true, 
But all the Flowers were ravish'd too. 

^f)tl0S0pfj|). — ShaJcspeare. 
A man, whose blood 
Is very Snow-broth j one who never feels 
The wanton stings and motions of the sense ; 
But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge 
With profits of the mind, Study and Fast. 

^MjtlOSOpf)]). — Moore. 
'J'HEN far be all the Wisdom hence, 

And all the lore, whose tame control 
Would wither joy with chill delays ! 
Alas ! the fertile fount of sense, 

At which the young, the panting Soul 
Drinks Life and Love, too soon decays ! 

^fjtlOSOpf)^. — Goldsmith. 
HTHIS same Philosophy is a good Horse in a stable, but an arrant 
Jade on a joun; 


$3 f)tl0S0pj)g- — Shaftesbury. 
''TIS not wit merely, but a temper, which must form the well- 
bred man. In the same manner 'tis not a Head merely, but a 
Heart and Resolution, which complete the real Philosopher. 

%$ fjgmogmimg. — Shdkspeare. 
The devil damn thee black, thou Cream-faced Loon ! 
Where got'st thou that Groose Look ? 
OTptngttnmg. —Addison. 
\\THEN" I see a man with a sour, rivell'd face, I cannot forbear 
pitying his Wife : and when I meet with an open, ingenuous 
countenance, think on the happiness of his Friends, his Family, 
and Relations. 

IPSgmognomjp.— virgii. 

Trust not too much to an enchanting face. 

33f)gStC — Bacon. 
"PHYSIC is of little use to a temperate person, for a man's own 
observation on what he finds does him good, and what hurts 
him, is the best physic to preserve Health. 

^j)ggtC — Addison. 
"DHYSIC, for the mo^t part, is nothing else but the substitute of 
Exercise or Temperance. 

pictures. — Horace. 
A Picture is a Poem without words. 

ISbeq) one in f)ts $lace. — Greviiie. 

'THE neglecting to put yourself above those that ought to be Infe- 
rior to you, will often be as disgustful to those very people, as 
the not putting yourself under those who ought to be Superior to 
you, will be disgustful to them. 

plagiarism. — S. T. Coleridge. 
Plagiarists are always suspicious of being stolen from. 

$i*afotng.— - Percioal. 

THERE is too much reason to apprehend, that the custom of 
pleading for any Client, without discrimination of right or 
wrong, must lessen the regard due to those important distinctions, 
and deaden the Moral Sensibility of the Heart. 

pleasure. — Shakspeare. 
Flowers are like the Pleasures of the world. 

^leaSUte. — Seneca. 
T ET not the enjoyment of Pleasures now within your grasp, be 
carried to such Excess, as to incapacitate you from future re- 


pleasure — Moore. 
PLEASURE'S the only noble end 

To which all Human powers should tend; 
And Virtue gives her heavenly lore, 
But to make Pleasure please us more ! 
Wisdom and she were both design'd 
To make the senses more refined, 
That man might revel free from cloying, 
Then most a sage, when most enjoying! 

^leaSUte, — Byron. 
Though sages may pour out their Wisdom's treasure, 
There is no sterner Moralist than Pleasure. 

pleasure. — Moore. 
Sages ! think on joy like this, 
And where's your boast of Apathy. 

pleasure. — Shakspeare. 
Why, all Delights are vain ; but that most vain, 
Which, with Pain purchased, doth inherit Pain. 

pleasure, — Spenser. 
TTIS sports were fair, his Joyance innocent, 

Sweet without soure, and Honey without gall; 
And he himself seem'd made for Merriment, 
Merrily masking both in Bower and Hall. 

pleasure. —Fuller. 
Choose such Pleasures as recreate much, and cost little. 

_ T$Ua$VlXt.— Shakspeare. 
Who riseth from a feast, 
With that keen Appetite that he sits down ? 
Where is the Horse that doth untread again 
His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
That he did pace them first ? All things that are, 
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
How like a younker, or a Prodigal, 
The scarf'd bark puts from her native bay, 
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet Wind ! 
How like the Prodigal doth she return, 
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails, 
Lean, rent, and beggar'd. 

WUamxe. — Pope. 

Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood, 
Our greatest Evil, or our greatest Good. 


^ieaSUte. — Shakspeare, 
TF all the year were playing Holidays, 

To sport would be as tedious as to work ; 
But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come, 
And nothing pleaseth but rare Accidents. 

pleasure.— Coiton. 

T^HE seeds of Repentance are sown in youth by Pleasure, but 
the Harvest is reaped in age by Pain. 

pleasure. — Coiton. 

Pain may be said to follow Pleasure as its shadow. 

WeaSXlte. — Chesterfield. 
T>LEASURE is a necessary Reciprocal : no one feels, who does 
not at the same time give it. To be pleased, one must please. 
What pleases you in others, will in general please them in you. 

pleasure. — Goldsmith. 

XTONE has more frequent conversations with disagreeable self 
than the man of Pleasure ; his Enthusiasms are but few and 
transient; his Appetites, like angry creditors, continually making 
fruitless demands for what he is unable to pay; and the greater 
his former Pleasures, the more strong his regret, the more im- 
patient his expectations. 

pleasure. — Coiton. 

IV/rENTAL Pleasures never cloy ) unlike those of the body, they 
are increased by Repetition, approved of by Reflection, and 
strengthened by Enjoyment. 

Ipfjetrg, — S. T. Coleridge. 
T>OETRY has been to me its own exceeding great reward : it 
has given me the habit of wishing to discover the Good and 
Beautiful in all that meets and surrounds me. 

^Oettl). —Anon, 
QO entirely do great Poets soar beyond the reach, and almost 
beyond the ken of their own Age, that we have only lately 
begun to have a right understanding of Shakspeare, or of the 
masters of the Greek drama, — to discern the principles which 
actuated them, the purposes they had in view, the laws they ac- 
knowledged, and the ideas they wished to impersonate. 

^rjetCg. — Shakspeare. 
HTHE truest Poetry is the most feigning ; and Lovers are given to 
Poetry ; and what they swear in Poetry, may be said, as lovers 
they do feign. 


^loettg* — Goldsmith. 

A ND thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, 
Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ! 
Unfit, in these degenerate times of Shame, 
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame, 
Dear charming Nymph, neglected and decried, 
My shame in crowds, my solitary Pride ; 
Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, 
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so ; 
Thou Guide, by which the nobler arts excel, 
Thou nurse of every Virtue. 

T$QttZ$.—Mrs. Tighe. 

r pO charm the languid hours of solitude 
He oft invites her to the Muse's lore, 

For none have vainly e'er the Muse pursued, 
And those whom she delights, regret no more 
The social, joyous hours, while rapt they soar 

To worlds unknown, and live in Fancy's dream : 
Muse divine ! thee only I implore, 

Shed on my Soul thy sweet inspiring beams, 

And Pleasure's gayest scene insipid Folly seems 

^OCtH).— Jean Paul. 
'THERE are so many tender and holy Emotions flying about in 
our inward world, which, like angels, can never assume the 
body of an outward act ; so many rich and lovely Flowers spring 
up which bear no seed, that it is a happiness Poetry was invented, 
which receives into its limbus all these incorporeal Spirits, and the 
Perfume of all these Flowers. 

^Jrjetrg. — Sir William Temple. 
HPHE mind of man is like the Sea, which is neither agreeable to 
the beholder nor the voyager, in a calm or in a storm ; but is 
so to both, when a little agitated by gentle gales; and so the Mind, 
when moved by soft and easy Passions and Affections. I know 
very well, that many, who pretend to be wise by the forms of being 
grave, are apt to despise both Poetry and Music, as toys and trifles 
too light for the use or entertainment of serious men : but whoever 
find themselves wholly insensible to these charms, would, I think, 
do well to keep their own Council, for fear of reproaching their own 
temper, and bringing the goodness of their natures, if not of their 
Understandings, into question : it may be thought at least an ill sign, 
if not an ill constitution ; since some of the Fathers went so far as 
to esteem the love of music a sign of predestination ; as a thing 
divine, and reserved for the felicities of Heaven itself. 


CAGES and chiefs long since had birth, 

Ere Csesar was, or Newton named ; 
These raised new empires o'er the earth ; 

And those, new Heavens and systems framed : 
Vain was the chiefs', the sages' pride ! 
They had no Poet, and they died. 
In vain they schemed, in vain they bled ! 
They had no Poet, and are dead. 

Cf)e $0et— Spenser. 
TTEAPS of huge words uphoorded hideousiy, 

With horrid sound, though having little sense, 
They think to be chief praise of Poetry, 

And thereby wanting due intelligence, 
Have marr'd the face of goodly Poesie, 
And made a Monster of their fautasie. 

Cf)e $0et. — Catullus. 
gUFFENUS has no more wit than a mere Clown when he attempts 
to write verses ; and yet he is never happier than when he is 
scribbling, so much does he admire himself and his Compositions ; 
and, indeed, this is the foible of every one of us ; for there is no 
man living who is not a Sufifenus in one thing or other. 

QLtytytot — Swift. 

THEN, rising with Aurora's light, 

The Muse invoked, sit down to write ; 
Blot out, correct, insert, refine, 
Enlarge, diminish, interline ; 
Be mindful, when Invention fails, 
To scratch you head, and bite your nails. 

Cf)e ^Ott — Sir W. Temple. 
1V"0NE ever was a great Poet that applied himself much to any 
thing else. 

^OliCjD. — Greville. 

T HAVE heard some of the first judges of Whist say, that it was! 

not those who played best by the true laws of the game that 

would win most, but those who played best to the false play of 

others ; and I am sure it is true of the great Game of the World 

^PultCJL — Shakspeare. 
Such is the infection of the time, 
That, for the Health and Physic of our Right 
We cannot deal but with the very hand 
Of stern Injustice and confused Wrong. 


politeness. — Greviiu. 

A S Charity covers a multitude of sins before God, so does Polite- 
ness before men. 

politeness. — Coitm. 

'THAT Politeness which we put on, in order to keep the assuming 
and the presumptuous at a prober distance, will generally suc- 
ceed. But it sometimes happens, that these obtrusive characters 
are on such excellent terms with themselves, that they put down 
this very Politeness to the score of their own great Merits and high 
pretensions, meeting the coldness of our Reserve with a ridiculous 
condescension of Familiarity, in order to set us at ease with our- 

IPoliteneSS. — Shaftesbury. 
A LL Politeness is owing to Liberty. We polish one another, 
and rub off our corners and rough sides by a sort of amicable 
collision. To restrain this is inevitably to bring a rust upon men's 

PoliteneSS. — Cumberland. 
"DOLTTENESS is nothing more than an elegant and concealed 
species of Flattery, tending to put the person to whom it is 
addressed in Good-humour and Respect with himself: but if there 
is a parade and display affected in the exertion of it, if a man seems 
to say — Look how condescending and gracious I am ! — whilst he 
has only the common offices of civility to perform, such Politeness 
seems founded in mistake, and this mistake I have observed fre- 
quently to occur in French manners. 

%30liteneSS. — Monro. 
'T'O the acquisition of the rare quality of Politeness, so much of 
the enlightened Understanding is necessary that I cannot but 
consider every Book in every science, which tends to make us wiser, 
and of course better men, as a treatise on a more enlarged system 
of Politeness, not excluding the Experiments of Archimedes, or the 
Elements of Euclid. 

STfje populace.— Shakspeare. 
r FHERE have been many Great Men that have flattered the Peo- 
ple, who never loved them ; and there be many that they have 
loved, they know not wherefore : so that, if they love they know 
not why, they hate upon no better ground. 

Cl)e ^Opulaee. — Shakspeare. 
YOU common cry of Curs ! whose breath I hate 
As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize 
As the dead Carcasses of unburied men 
Tha f do corrupt the Air. 


Cije populace. — Cowper. 

COME shout him, and some hang upon his car 

To gaze in 's eyes and bless him. Maidens wave 
Their 'kerchiefs, and old Women weep for joy. 
While others not so satisfied unhorse 
The gilded Equipage, and turning loose 
His Steeds, usurp a place they well deserve. 

Cf)e populace. — Coiton. 

f rHE Mob is a monster with the hands of Briareus, but the head 
of Polyphemus — strong to execute, but blind to perceive. 

Cj)e ^WUlatt. — Shakspeare. 
T?OR the mutable, rank-scented Many, let them 

Regard me as I do not flatter, and 
Therein behold themselves : I say again 
In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our Senate 
The cockle of Rebellion, insolence, sedition, 
Which we ourselves have ploughed for, sow'd and scatter'd, 
By mingling them with us, the honour' d number; 
Who lack not Virtue, no, nor power, but that 
Which they have given to Beggars. 

&f)e populace.— Milton. 

What is the People but a Herd confused, 
A miscellaneous Rabble, who extol 

Things vulgar, and well weigh'd, scarce worth the praise ? 
They praise, and they admire they know not what, 
And know not whom, but as one leads the other; 
And what delight to be by such extoll'd, 
To live upon their Tongues, and be their talk, 
Of whom to be dispraised were no small Praise ? 

Ct)e populace. — Shakspeare. 
I will not choose what many men desire, 
Because I will not jump with common spirits, 
And rank me with the barbarous Multitude. 

Cf)e populace, — Shakspeare. 

Our slippery People, 
Whose love is never link'd to the Deserver, 
Till his deserts are passed. 

W§z ^cpulace, — Coitm. 

TT is an easy and a vulgar thing to please the Mob, and not a 
very arduous task to astonish them ; but essentially to benefit 
and to improve them, is a work fraught with Difficulty, and 
teeming with Danger. 


Cfje populate.— Shakspeare, 

The fool Multitude, that choose by show, 
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach ; 
Which pries not to th' interior, but, like the Martlet, 
Builds in the Weather on the outward wall, 
Even in the force and road of Casualty. 

Cf)e populace. — Cowper. 

C\ POPULAR Applause ! what heart of man 

Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms ? 
The wisest and the best feel urgent need 
Of all their Caution in thy gentlest gales ; 
But swell'd into a gust — who then, alas ! 
With all his Canvas set, and inexpert 
And therefore heedless, can withstand thy Power? 

Cf)e populace.— Bryden. 
'THE Rabble gather round the Man of News, 

And listen with their mouths wide open; some 
Tell, some hear, some judge of News, some make it, 
And he that lies most loud, is most believed. 

Cje populace. — Cicero. 
They condemn what they do not understand. 

Cf)e populace. — Shakspeare. 
HTHEY'LL sit by th' fire, and presume to know 

What's done i' the Capitol : who's like to rise, 
Who thrives, and who declines : side Factions, and give out 
Conjectural Marriages; making parties strong, 
And feebling such as stand not in their liking, 
Below their cobbled shoes. 

Cf)e populate. — Shakspeare. 

Your affections are 
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that 
Which would increase his Evil. He that depends 
Upon your favours, swims with fins of Lead, 
And hews down Oaks with Rushes. Hang ye ! Trust ye ? 
With every minute you do change a mind; 
And call him noble, that was now your hate — 
Him vile, that was your Garland. 

W§Z populate. — Shakspeare. 
You have many Enemies, that know not 
Why they are so, but, like to village Curs, 
Bark when their fellows do. 


Cije populace. — Shakspeare. 

What would you have, you Curs, 
That like nor Peace, nor War ? the one affrights you, 
The other makes you proud. He that trusts you, 
Where he should find you Lions, finds you Hares ; 
Where Foxes, G-eese : you are no surer, no, 
Than is the coal of fire upon the Ice, 
Or hailstone in the Sun. 

Cf)e populace* — Shakspeare. 
T 00 K, as I blow this Feather from my face, 

And as the air blows it to me again, 
Obeying with my Wind when I do blow, 
And yielding to another when it blows, 
Commanded always by the greater Gust ; 
Such is the likeness of you Common Men. 

^OpUlarttg. — Shakspeare. 
A N habitation giddy and unsure 

Hath he that buildeth on the Vulgar Heart. 
Oh thou fond Many ! with what loud applause 
Did'st thou beat Heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, 
Before he was what thou would' st have him be ! 
And now, being trimm'd up in thine own desires, 
Thou, beastly Feeder, art so full of him, 
That thou provokest thyself to cast him up. 

^OpuiaUtg. — Spenser. 
AND after all the Raskall Many ran, 

Heap'd. together in rude Rablement, 
To see the face of that victorious man, 
. Whom all admired as from Heaven sent, 
And gazed upon with gaping Wonderment. 

3|opularitg. — Scott. 
r FHEIR'S was the glee of martial breast, 

And laughter their' s at little jest; 
And oft Lord Marmion deign'd to aid, 
And mingle in the mirth they made : 
For though, with men of High degree, 
The proudest of the Proud was he, 
Yet, train' d in camps, he knew the art 
To win the Soldier's hardy Heart. 

^OS0ej30tOtt. — Young. 
"POSSESSION, why, more tasteless than pursuit ? 

Why is a wish far dearer than a Crown ? 
That wish accomplish'd, why, the grave of Bliss? 


Because, in the great future buried deep, 
Beyond our plans of Empire and Renown, 
Lies all that man with ardour should pursue ; 
And He who made him, bent him to the right. 

$O00eSStOtt. — Shakspeare. 
It so falls out, 
That what we have we prize not to the worth, 
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, 
Why, then we rack the Value ; then we find 
The Virtue, that Possession would not show us 
Whiles it was ours. 

3|OJ3teritg. — CoUon. 
V\TITH respect to the authority of great names, it should be re- 
membered, that he alone deserves to have any weight or in- 
fluence with Posterity, who has shown himself superior to the par- 
ticular and predominant Error of his own times. 

^pObertg. — St. Eoremond. 
AV^HEN it is not despicable to be poor, we want fewer things to 
live in Poverty with satisfaction, than to live magnificently 
xith Riches 

^Obertg.— Drydm. 

TITANT is a bitter and a hateful good, 

Because its Virtues are not understood; 
Yet many things, impossible to thought, 
Have been by need to full perfection brought. 
The daring of the Soul proceeds from thence, 
Sharpness of Wit, and active Diligence ; 
Prudence at once, and Fortitude it gives; 
And, if in patience taken, mends our lives. 

Itobtttg,— Juvenal. 

Rarely they rise by Virtue's aid, who lie 
Plunged in the depth of helpless Poverty. 

^Obcrtg. — Turkish Spy. 
pOVERTY eclipses the brightest Virtues, and is the very Sepul- 
chre of brave designs, depriving a man of the means to accom- 
plish what Nature has fitted him for, and stifling the noblest thoughts 
in their embryo. Many illustrious Souls may be said to have been 
dead among the living, or buried alive in the obscurity of their 
condition, whose perfections have rendered them the darlings of 
Providence, and companions of angels. 



^pObertg atttf HtCf)eS, — SJmkspeare. 

Twinn'd brothers of one womb, — 
Whose procreation, residence, and birth, 
Scarce is dividant, — touch them with several Fortunes; 
The greater scorns the lesser : Not Nature, 
To whom all lay siege, can bear great fortune, 
But by contempt of Nature. 
Raise me this Beggar, and denude that Lord; 
The Senator shall bear contempt hereditary; 
The Beggar native honour. 
It is the pasture lards the browser's sides, 
The want that makes him lean. 

^obertg ants 2Mtssfccm\— Dekker. 

A wise man poor, 
Is like a Sacred Book that's never read ; 
To himself he lives, and to all else seems dead. 

$otoer.— Coiton. 

T>OWER will intoxicate the best hearts, as Wine the strongest 
heads. No man is wise enough, nor good enough to be trusted 
with unlimited Power; for, whatever qualifications he may have 
evinced to entitle him to the possession of so dangerous a privilege, 
yet, when possessed, others can no longer answer for him, because 
he can no longer answer for himself. 

^Otoet. — Coiton. 
T ORD BACON has compared those who move in higher spheres 
to those heavenly bodies in the Firmament, which have much 
admiration, but little rest. And it is not necessary to invest a wise 
man with Power, to convince him that it is a garment bedizened 
with gold, which dazzles the beholder by its Splendour, but op- 
presses the wearer by its Weight. 

dormant ^otoer, — Swift. 

A LTHOUGrH men are accused for not knowing their own Weak- 
ness, yet perhaps as few know their own Strength. It is in 
men as in soils, where sometimes there is a vein of Gold, which the 
owner knows not of. 

^Potoer ant* %ibztty. — Saviiie. 

"DOWER and Liberty are like Heat and Moisture; where they 
are well mixt, every thing prospers; where they are single, 
they are destructive. 

^atSe. — Fuller. 
THOU may'st be more prodigal of Praise when thou writest a 
letter than when thou speakest in presence. 


ftafee Young. 

'THE love of Praise, howe'er conceal'd by art, 

Reigns, more or less, and glows in every Heart : 
The proud, to gain it, toils on toils endure. 
The modest shun it but to make it sure. 

^ratSe,— Spenser. 
(^)R who would ever care to do brave deed, 

Or strive in Virtue others to excel, 
If none should yield him his deserved meed, 

Due Praise, that is the spur of doing well ? 
For if Good were not praised more than ill, 
None would chuse Goodness of his own free will. 

^Catge. — Steele. 

A LLOW no man to be so free with you as to praise you to your 

Face. Your Vanity by this means will want its food. At 

the same time your passion for esteem will be more fully gratified; 

men will praise you in their actions : where you now receive one 

Compliment, you will then receive twenty Civilities. 

tytaiSt. — Fuller. 
T>RAISE not people to their faces, to the end that they may pay 
thee in the same Coin. This is so thin a Cobweb, that it may 
with little difficulty be seen through ; 'tis rarely strong enough to 
catch flies of any considerable magnitude. 

tywiXt.—From the Latin. 
TT is the greatest possible Praise to be praised by a man who is 
himself deserving of Praise. 

$) C a t g Z . — Shakspeare. 
THE worthiness of Praise distains his worth, 

If that the praised himself bring the Praise forth : 
But what the repining enemy commends, 
That breath Fame follows; that Praise, sole pure, transcends. 

praise.— Greviiu. 

r rHOSE men who are commended by everybody, must be very 
extraordinary men ; or, which is more probable, very inconsider- 
able men. 

^tapeC— H. More. 
T^OUNTAIN' of Mercy ! whose pervading eye 
Can look within and read what passes there, 
Accept my thoughts for thanks : I have no words. 
My soul, o'erfraught with Gratitude, rejects 
The aid of Language — Lord ! behold my Heart. 


^rapCC — Fuller. 
T EAVE not off praying to God : for either praying will make 
thee leave off sinning ; or continuing in Sin will make thee 
desist from praying. 

l3^3J)0t. — Archibald Alexander. 
TT is as natural and reasonable for a dependent creature to apply 
to its Creator for what it needs, as for a child thus to solicit the 
aid of a parent who is believed to have the disposition and ability to 
bestow what it needs. 

Stager. — Thomson. 
RATHER of Light and Life ! thou Good Supreme ! 

Oh teach me what is good ! teach me thyself ! 
Save me from Folly, Vanity, and Vice, 
From every low pursuit ! and feed my Soul 
With Knowledge, conscious Peace, and Virtue pure; 
Sacred, substantial, never-fading Bliss ! 

Stager Shakspeare. 

"POR holy offices I have a time ; a time 

To think upon the part of business, which 
I bear i' the State ; and Nature does require 
Her times of preservation, which perforce, 
I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal, 
Must give my tendance to. 

Ipraget* — Shakspeare. 
T END me a Heart replete with thankfulness ! 

For thou hast given me in this beauteous face, 
A world of earthly blessings to my Soul, 
If sympathy of Love unite our thoughts. 

Stager. — Shakspeare. 
Q ENGLAND ! — model to thy inward greatness, 

Like little body with a mighty Heart, — 
What might'st thou do, that Honour would thee do 
Were all thy children kind and natural ! 

IJJrmpt. — Shakspeare. 
"T)0 not, as some ungracious Pastors do, 

Show me the steep and thorny way to Heaven ; 
Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, 
Himself the primrose path of Dalliance treads, 
And recks not his own read. 

^tecept.— Anon. 
QNE of the saddest things about Human Nature is, that a man 
may guide others in the path of Life, without walking in it 
himself; that he may he a Pilot, aud yet a castaway. 


TgHttt$t. — CoUan, 

TT was observed of the Jesuits, that they constantly inculcated a 
thorough contempt of worldly things in their Doctrines, but 
eagerly grasped at thein in their Lives. They were " wise in their 
generation/' for they cried down Worldly things, because they 
wanted to obtain them, and cried up Spiritual things, because they 
wanted to dispose of them. 

precept aria ISxample.— Johnson. 

"WDTHINGr is more unjust, however common, than to charge 
with Hypocrisy him that expresses zeal for those Virtues 
which he neglects to practise ; since he may be sincerely convinced 
of the advantages of conquering his Passions, without having yet 
obtained the Victory ; as a man may be confident of the advantages 
of a voyage or a journey, without having Courage or Industry to 
undertake it, and may honestly recommend to others those at- 
tempts which he neglects himself. 

precept anti ISiampie.— Shakspeare. 

TF to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, Chapels 
had been Churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. 
It is a good Divine that follows his own instructions; I can easier 
teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty 
to follow mine own teaching. 

Cf)e precipice. — Shakspeare. 
r FHE very place puts toys of Desperation, 
Without more motive, into every brain, 
That looks so many fathoms to the Sea, 
And hears it roar beneath. 

\ymivitaiK1).— Shakspeare. 
TTEAT not a Furnace for your foe so hot, 

That it do singe yourself. We may out-run 
By violent swiftness, that which we run at ; 
And lose by over-running: know you not, 
The Fire that mounts the Liquor 'till't run o'er, 
Seeming t' augment it, wastes it ? 

WujUllice.— Grevillc. 
COME Prejudices are to the mind what the Atmosphere is to the 
body; we cannot feel without the one, nor breathe without the 

^tejllulCe.— Greville. 
"REMOVING Prejudices, is, alas ! too often removing the 
boundary of a delightful near prospect, in order to let in a 
shocking extensive one. 



^tCJUtltCe. — Tucker. 
'THERE are habits of Misapprehension and misjudging, common 
among all degrees of men ; Fretfulness, industrious to seek or 
even feign and chew upon matter that may nourish it; Captious- 
ness, ingenious in perverting the meaning of words; Partiality, 
warping every thing to its own purpose ; Censoriousness, unable 
to discern a bright part in characters ; Self-conceit, averse to 
discern the real motives of acting; Melancholy, augurating always 
for the worst ; besides many more, some of which I am afraid 
every man may find lurking in his own breast, if he will but look 
narrowly enough. 

^rejUfctCe. — Terence. 
TUMAN nature is so constituted, that all see, and judge better, 
in the Affairs of other men, than in their own. 

^IrejUtUCe. — La Rochefoucauld. 
T\/"E seldom find persons whom we acknowledge to be possessed 
of Good Sense, except those who agree with us in opinion. 

$tefttfctCe.— -GremOe. 

r rO divest one's self of some Prejudices, would be like taking off 
the skin to feel the better. 

Cf)e present.— Horace. 
A BRIDGE your Hopes in proportion to the shortness of the 
span of Human Life; for while we converse, the hours, as if 
envious of our Pleasure, fly away : enjoy therefore the present 
time, and trust not too much to what to-morrow may produce. 

Cije ^regent —Horace. 
TN the midst of Hopes and Cares, of Apprehensions and of Dis- 
quietude, regard every day that dawns upon you as if it was to 
be your last; and superadded hours, to the enjoyment of which 
you had not looked forward, will prove an acceptable boon. 

W$z present— Fuller. 

r FRY to be happy in this very present Moment ; and put not off 
being so to a Time to come : as though that Time should be 
of another make from this, which is already come, and is ours. 

3It)c present. — Coiton. 

"YTEN spend their lives in Anticipations, in determining to be 
vastly happy at some period or other, when they have time. 
But the present time has one advantage over every other — it is our 
own. Past opportunities are gone, future are not come. We may 
lay in a stock of Pleasures, as we would lay in a stock of Wine ; 
but if we defer the tasting of them too long, we shall find that both 
are soured by age. 


Clje present.— Armstrong. 
T\7"HAT avails it that indulgent Heaven 

From mortal Eyes has wrapt the woes to come, 
If we, ingenious to torment ourselves, 
Grow pale at hideous Fictions of our own ? 
Enjoy the Present; nor with needless cares 
Of what may spring from blind Misfortune's womb, 
Appal the surest hour that life bestows. 
Serene, and master of yourself, prepare 
For what may come ; and leave the rest to Heaven. 

Wi)z present anti \%t Internal. — Coiton. 

TF indeed that marvellous microcosm, Man, with all the costly cargo 
of his faculties and powers, were indeed a rich Argosy, fitted 
out and freighted only for Shipwreck and Destruction, who amongst 
us that tolerate the Present only from the Hope of the Future, who 
that have any aspirings of a high and intellectual Nature about 
them, could be brought to submit to the disgusting Mortifications 
of the voyage ? As to the common and the sensual herd, who 
would be glad, perhaps, under any terms, to sweat and groan be- 
neath the load of Life, they would find that the creed of the Mate- 
rialist would only give a fuller swing to the suicidal energies of a 
Selfism as unprincipled as unrelenting; a Selfism that would not 
only make that giftless Gift of Life a boon the most difficult to pre- 
serve, but would at the same time render it wholly unworthy of the 
task and the trouble of its preservation. Knowledge herself, that 
fairest daughter of Heaven, would be immediately transformed into 
a changeling of Hell; the brightest Reason would be the blackest 
Curse, and Weakness more salutary than Strength ; for the Villany 
of man would increase with the Depravity of his will, and the de- 
pravity of his 'will with every augmentation of his Power. The 
force of Intellect imparted to that which was corrupt, would be like 
the destructive energies communicated by an Earthquake to that 
which is inert; where even things inanimate, as rocks and moun- 
tains, seem endowed with a momentary impulse of motion and Life, 
only to overwhelm, to destroy, and to be destroyed. 

jBatvtng presents. — Fuller. 

\"\THEN thou makest Presents, let them be of such things as will 
last long; to the end they may be in some sort immortal, and 
may frequently refresh the Memory of the Receiver. 

Cfje WxtteriHtt.—Shakspeare. 

This is some fellow, 
Who, having been praised for Bluntness, doth affect 
A saucy Roughness; and constrains the garb, 


Quite from his Nature : He cannot flatter, he ! — 

An honest nrind and plain, — he must speak Truth : 

An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain. 

These kind of Knaves I know, which in this plainness 

Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends, 

Than twenty silly ducking Observants, 

That stretch their duties nicely. 

pretension. — Lavater. 
TTE who gives himself airs of Importance, exhibits the credentials 
of Impotence. 

WXZtZV&iQn.— Johnson. 

TT is the care of a very great part of Mankind to conceal their in- 
digence from the rest. They support themselves by temporary 
Expedients, and every day is lost in contriving for to-morrow. 

^tetenStOn. — La Rochefoucauld. 
The desire of appearing Clever often prevents our becoming so. 

pretension. — Cicero. 

'TRUE Glory strikes root, and even extends itself; all false Pre- 
tensions fall as do Flowers, nor can any thing feigned be lasting 

pretension. —Plutarch. 
TT is no Disgrace not to be able to do every thing ; but to under- 
take, or pretend to do, what you are not made for, is not only 
Shameful, but extremely Troublesome and Vexatious. 

pretension.— Lavater. 
T^THERE there is much Pretension, much has been borrowed : 
Nature never pretends. 


'TO no kind of begging are people so averse, as to begging Par- 
don ; that is, when there is any serious ground for doing so. 
When there is none, this phrase is as soon taken in vain, as other 
momentous words are upon light Occasions. 

^ritje. — Shakspeare. 
TTE that is proud, eats up himself: Pride is his own Glass, his 
own Trumpet, his own Chronicle ; and whatever praises itself 
but in the deed, devours the deed in the Praise. 

^ritie. — Clarendon. 
Y\TITHOUT the sovereign influence of God's extraordinary and 
immediate Grace, men do very rarely put off all the trappings 
nf their Pride, till they who are about them put on their winding- 


$tfte* — QotUm. 

T3RIDE is a paradoxical Proteus, eternally diverse yet ever the 
same ; for Plato adopted a most magnificent mode of displaying 
bis Contempt for Magnificence, while Neglect would have restored 
Diogenes to common sense and clean linen, since he would have 
had no Tub, from the moment he had no Spectators. "Thus I 
trample/' said Diogenes, " on the pride of Plato." "But," rejoined 
Plato, " with greater pride, Diogenes." 

Wxitlt. — Grevffle. 

A PROUD man never shows his Pride so much as when he is 

^Jritie. — Shakspeare. 

Pride hath no other Glass 
To show itself, but Pride ; for supple knees 
Feed Arrogance, and are the Proud Man's fees. 

Vxilit. — Skenstone. 
AT EN are sometimes accused of Pride merely because their ac- 
cusers would be proud themselves if they were iu their places. 

}3tttie. — Cotton. 
■THERE is this paradox in Pride, — it makes some men ridiculous, 
but prevents others from becoming so. 

V^C — Selden. 
T>RIDE may be allowed to this or that degree, else a man cannot 
keep up his Dignity. In Gluttony there must be eating, in 
Drunkeuness there must be drinking; 'tis not the eating, nor 'tis 
not the drinking that must be blamed, but the Excess. So in 

Wtitlt. — Greville. 

T>RIDE is a Virtue — let not the moralist be scandalized — Pride 
is also a Vice. Pride, like Ambition, is sometimes virtuous 
and sometimes vicious, according to the character in which it is 
found, and the object to which it is directed. As a Principle, it is 
the Parent of almost every Virtue, and every Vice, — every thing 
that pleases and displeases in mankind ; and as the effects are so 
very different, nothing is more easy than to discover, even to our- 
selves, whether the Pride that produces them is virtuous or vicious : 
the first object of virtuous Pride is Rectitude, and the next Inde- 

VUHC — Cotton. 
Pride requires very costly food— its keeper's Happiness. 


XHlbt.— Colton. 
T'O quell the Pride, even of the greatest, we should reflect how 
much we owe to others, and how little to ourselves. Philip 
having made himself master of Potidoea, received three Messengers 
in one day : the first brought him an account of a great Victory, 
gained over the Illyrians, by his General Parmenio ; the second 
told him, that he was proclaimed Victor at the Olympic games ; 
and the third informed him of the birth of Alexander. But there 
was nothing in all these events that ought to have fed the Vanity, 
or that would have justified the Pride, of Philip, since, as an ele- 
gant writer remarks, " for the first he was indebted to his General; 
for the second, to his Horse ; and his Wife is shrewdly suspected 
of having helped him to the third." 

$H*ttlC. — Shakspeare. 
T WILL from henceforth rather be myself, 

Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition*, 
Which hath been smooth as Oil, soft as young Down, 
And therefore lost that title of Respect, 
Which the proud Soul ne'er pays, but to the Proud. 

^rocrastmatton.— Young. 

Be wise to-day • 'tis Madness to defer ; 
Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; 
Thus on, till Wisdom is push'd out of Life. 

^roctastmatton. — miotson. 

HTO be always intending to live a new Life, but never to find time 
to set about it : this is as if a man should put off" Eating, and 
Drinking, and Sleeping, from one day and night to another, till he 
is starved and destroyed. 

^Jnicrastmatum. — Persms. 

Corn. Unhappy he, who does his work adjourn, 
And to To-morrow would the Search delay : 
His lazy morrow will be like to-day. 

Pers. But is one day of Ease too much to borrow? 

Corn. Yes, sure; for Yesterday was once To-morrow. 
That Yesterday is gone, and nothing gain'd; 
And all thy fruitless days will thus be drain'd : 
For thou hast more To-morrows yet to ask, 
And wilt be ever to begin thy Task ; 
Who, like the hindmost Chariot Wheels, art curst, 
Still to be near, but ne'er to reach, the first. 

^procrastination. —Hesiod. 

It will not always be Summer. 


^kOCraS'tmattcm. — Skakspeare. 

That we would do, 
We should do when we would ; for this would changes, 
And hath abatements and Delays as many, 
As there are Tongues, are hands, are accidents; 
And then this should is like a spendthrift Sigh, 
That hurts by easing. 

13fOCCaStmattOn Horace. 

YV"HATEVER things injure your Eye, you are anxious to re- 
move : but things which affect your Mind you defer 

^rOtltgteS* —Shdkspeare. 
When Beggars die, there are no Comets seen. 

^rofligacg.— Coiton. 

TTE that has never suffered extreme Adversity, knows not the 
full extent of his own Depravation; and he that has never en- 
joyed the summit of Prosperity, is equally ignorant how far the 
Iniquity of others can go. For our Adversity will excite tempta- 
tions in ourselves, our Prosperity in others. Sir Robert Walpole 
observed, it was fortunate that few men could be Prime Ministers, 
because it was fortunate that few men could know the abandoned 
Profligacy of the Human Mind. 

prognostication. — Skakspeare. 
T\THEN Clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks ; 

When great leaves fall, then Winter is at hand ; 
When the Sun sets, who doth not look for Night ■ 
Untimely Storms make men expect a Dearth. 

^Progress. — Coiton. 

'THE wisest Man may be wiser to-day than he was yesterday, and 
to-morrow than he is to-day. Total freedom from Change 
would imply total freedom from Error; but this is the Prerogative 
of Omniscience alone. 

progress. — Coiton. 

AYTHO for the most part are they, that would have all Mankind 
look backward instead of forward, and regulate their Conduct 
by things that have been done? those who are the most ignorant 
as to all things that are doing. Lord Bacon said, time is the 
greatest of Innovators ; he might also have said the greatest of Im- 
provers ; and I like Madame de Stael's observation on this subject, 
quite as well as Lord Bacon's: it is this, "that Past which is so 
presumptuously brought forward as a precedent for the Present, 
was itself founded on an alteration of some Past that went before it " 

ILL : S - UTB; 

|ta>ftt£& _ 

- B no the moral and intell rid. One 

is J _ ss, the other the : ss 

that Pro g ress. Id be 

nothii _ Has! nd durable on and the wl 

If the latter had 
• en if it obtaii 

Hi ' st _ - Ft! 
always those iu which principles are the 

balanced. In :ilightened man ought to adopt 

both principles into his i with one 

hand develop what he can, v in and uphold what 

h: . ; .'■ 

\}\::.\ :■':■:. - 
IJX the lisposition sfnpei adorn, mouldin_ 

the g us incorporation of the Human Race, the 

whole, at one tim e middle-*g _ : but, 

in a lition of unchangea s on through the 

] tenour of pc itaon, and Progres- 

\VE Might - to encourage Innovati 

cases of doubtful Improve ■ I system mus: 

hare two advantage - liahed and it is un- 

^3;: — Fuller. 

HOU oughtest to be . nic. to S - ::>n, in keepiu. 

and therefore thou shouldst be equally eautioas n 
making th 

T-T : 5: slow in making a Promise is the most faithful in 

the i :::rmance of 

Paraqitttitiit.— wirt. 

SEIZE ed euri:? mj subject, to solve 

:ur dout: pass, the desire n&aj :urn, 

and you may remain in ignorance. 

}3 : 1 1 — Skakspeare, 

I 'HKKH is a His :a all mens 1: 

F _ _ - > : : - - 1 

vhich observed, a man may prop* 
h a near aim, of the main Chance of th _- 
Afl yet not come I ich in th 

weak beginnings, lie intreasured. 


1 : 


VrOSpentg. — Shakspeare. 
Prosperity is the very bond of Love ; 
Whose fresh complexion and whose Heart together 
Affliction alters. 

^IrOSperitg. — Zimmerman. 
'PAKE care to be an economist in Prosperity : there is no fear of 
your being one in Adversity. 

13t:obttJtnCe. — Shakspeare. 
THAT high All-seer which I dallied with, 

Hath turn'd my feigned Prayer on my head, 
And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. 
Thus doth He force the Swords of wicked men 
To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms. 

^robttience.— Hannah More. 
VES, Thou art ever present, Power Supreme ! 

Not circumscribed by Time, nor fixt to Space, 
Confined to altars, nor to temples bound. 
In Wealth, in Want, in Freedom or in Chains, 
In Dungeons or on Thrones, the faithful find thee ! 

^COuttienCe. — Thomson. 
THIS is thy work, Almighty Providence ! 

Whose Power, beyond the stretch of human thought, 
Revolves the orbs of Empire; bids them sink 
Deep in the dead'ning Night of thy displeasure, 
Or rise majestic o'er a wondering world. 

^Jl'ObttJCnCe. — Shakspeare. 
OUR Indiscretion sometimes serves us well ; 

When our deep plots do pall : and that should teach us, 
There's a Divinity that shapes our ends, 
Rough-hew them how we will. 

liJtObl&enCe. — Racine. 
PJE who ruleth the raging of the Sea, knows also how to check 
the designs of the Ungodly. — I submit myself with reverence 
to his Holy Will. Abner, I fear my God, and I fear none but 

^robtutnce. — Cowper. 

rj.0, mark the matchless working of the Power 

That shuts within the seed the future Flower; 
Bids these in elegance of form excel, 
In colour these, and those delight the smell ; 
Sends Nature forth, the Daughter of the skie3, 
To dance on Earth, and charm all human Eyes 


^CObttience. — Spenser. 
AND is there care in Heaven ? and is there love 

In heavenly Spirits to the creatures base, 
That may compassion of their evills move ? 

There is ; else much more wretched were the case 

Of men than beasts. But oh ! th' exceeding Grace 
Of highest God that loves his creatures so, 

And all his works with Mercy doth embrace, 
That blessed angels he sends to and fro 
To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe ! 

How oft do they their silver bowres leave 
To come to succour us that succour want ? 

How oft do they with golden pinions cleave 
The flitting skyes, like flying Pursuivant, 
Against fowle feendes to ayd us militant ? 

They for us fight, they watch and dewly ward, 
And their bright Squadrons round about us plant; 

And all for Love, and nothing for reward : 

Oh why should heavenly God to men have such regard ! 

^rutJettCe, — Shakspeare. 
'W'HO buys a minute's mirth, to wail a week? 

Or sells Eternity to get a toy ? 
For one sweet grape, who will the Vine destroy? 
Or what fond beggar, but to touch the Crown, 
Would with the Sceptre straight be strucken down ? 

HJritljettc*. — coitm. 

ly/TEN are born with two Eyes, but with one Tongue, in order 
that they should see twice as much as they say. 

^ntftence.— Coiton. 

T'HOSE characters, who, like Ventidius, spring from the very 
dregs of society, and going through every gradation of Life, 
continue, like him, to rise with every change, and who never quit 
a single step in the ladder, except it be to gain a higher one, these 
men are superior to Fortune, and know how to enjoy her Caresses 
without being the slaves of her Caprice. 

^PtUtienCe. — Shakspeare. 
; TiS better using France, than trusting. 
Let us be back'd with God, and with the Seas, 
Which he hath given for Fence impregnable, 
And with their helps alone defend ourselves : 
In them, and in ourselves, our Safety lies. 


^rutinim— Juvenal. 

^JO other Protection is wanting, provided you are under the 
guidance of Prudence. 

^untsfjmcnt. — Wilkes. 

The very worst use to which you can put a Man is to hang him. 

^pUmStjttUttt — From the Latin. 
'THE slightest corporal Punishment falls more heavily than the 
most weighty pecuniary Penalty. 

WutitmiZm. — Bancroft. 

C 1 RIVALRY delighted in outward show, favoured pleasure, multi- 
plied amusement, and degraded the human race by an exclusive 
respect for the privileged classes ; Puritanism bridled the passions, 
commended the virtues of self-denial, and rescued the name of man 
from dishonour. The former valued courtesy ; the latter justice. 
The former adorned society by graceful refinements ; the latter 
founded national grandeur on universal education. The institutions 
of chivalry were subverted by the gradually increasing weight, and 
knowledge, and opulence of the industrious classes. The Puritans, 
rallying upon those classes, planted in their hearts the undying 
principles of democratic liberty. 

^Jttr tt J). — Shakspeare. 

Her smoothness, 
Her very Silence, and her Patience, 
Speak to the people, and they pity her. 

^Urit}). — Buckingham. 
Make my breast 
Transparent as pure Crystal, that the world, 
Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought, 
My Heart does hold. 

$ttritg. — Shakspeare. 

A maiden never bold ; 
Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion 
Blush'd at herself. 

$Uttt|). — Shakspeare. 
There's nothing ill can dwell in such a Temple 
If the 111 spirit have so fair a house, 
G-ood things will strive to dwell with't. 

SPutttg. — Hare. 

Purity is the feminine, Truth the masculine, of Honour 


^pUritp. — Hare. 
12Y the ancients, Courage was regarded as practically the main 
part of Virtue : by us, though I hope we are not less brave, 
Purity is so regarded now. The former is evidently the animal 
excellence, a thing not to be left out when we are balancing the 
one against the other. Still the following considerations weigh 
more with me. Courage, when not an instinct, is the creation of 
society, depending for occasions of Action (which is essential to it) 
on outward circumstances, and deriving much both of its character 
and its motives from popular Opinion and Esteem. But Purity is 
inward, secret, self-sufficing, harmless, and, to crown all, thoroughly 
and intimately personal. It is indeed a Nature, rather than a 
Virtue ; and, like other natures, when most perfect, is least con- 
scious of itself and its perfection. In a word, Courage, however 
kindled, is fanned by the breath of man : Purity lives and derives 
its life solely from the Spirit of God. 

^urSUttS. — Terence. 
T TAKE it to be a principal rule of Life, not to be too much 
addicted to any one thing 

(^tiarreiS. — Tacitus. 
'THE Hatred of those who are the most nearly connected, is the 
most inveterate. 

(^UarrelS. — Shakspeare. 
Accursed and unquiet wrangling days ! 
How many of you have mine Eyes beheld. 

Cartels. — coiton. 

fF you cannot avoid a quarrel with a Blackguard, let your Lawyer 
manage it, rather thau yourself. No man sweeps his own chim- 
ney, but employs a chimney-sweeper, who has no objection to dirty 
work, because it is his trade. 

(QuarrelS. — Shakspeare. 
Contention, like a Horse, 
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, 
And bears down all before him. 

(QuarreiS. — Shakspeare. 

Of entrance to a Quarrel : but, being in, 
Bear it that the Opposer may beware of thee. 

l&attlt. — Juvenal. 
"PVERY Error of the mind is the more conspicuous, and culpable, 
in proportion to the Rank of the person who commits it. 


Itattfe. — Goldsmith. 

QUALITY and Title have such allurements, that hundreds are 
ready to give up all their own importance, to cringe, to flatter, 
to look little, and to pall every pleasure in constraint, merely to 
be among the Great, though without the least hopes of improving 
their Understanding or sharing their Generosity : they might be 
happy among their equals, but those are despised for company 
where they are despised in turn. 

l&anfcs an* Begrees. — s/mkspeare. 

TyHEN that the General is not like the hive, 

To whom the foragers shall all repair, 
"What Honey is expected ? Degree being vizarded 
Th' unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. 
The Heavens themselves, the Planets, and this Centre 
Observe Degree, Priority, and Place, 
Insisture, Course, Proportion, Season, Form, 
Office and Custom, in all line of Order : 
And therefore is the glorious planet Sol 
In noble eminence enthroned and sphered 
Amidst the rest, whose med'cinable eye 
Corrects the ill aspects of Plauets evil, 
And posts like the commandment of a King, 
Sans check, to good and bad. But when the Planets 
In evil mixture to Disorder wander, 
What plagues, and what portents, what mutiny ? 
What raging of the Sea ? shaking of Earth ? 
Commotion in the Winds ? frights, changes, horrors, 
Divert and crack, rend, and deracinate 
The unity and married calm of States 
Quite from their fixure ? Oh, when Degree is shaken, 
(Which is the ladder to all high designs) 
The enterprise is sick. How could communities, 
Degrees in schools, and Brotherhoods in cities, 
Peaceful commerce from dividabl» shores, 
The primogeniture, and due of birth, 
Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels, 
(But by Degree) stand in authentic place? 
Take but Degree away, untune that string, 
And hark what Discord follows ; each thing meets 
In mere oppugnancy. The bounded waters 
Would lift their bosoms higher than the shores, 
And make a sop of all this solid Globe : 
Streugth would be lord of Imbecility, 
And the rude son would strike his father dead : 



Force would be Right j or rather, Right and Wrong 

(Between whose endless jar Justice resides) 

"Would lose their names, and so would Justice too. 

Then every thing includes itself in power, 

Power into Will, Will into Appetite; 

And Appetite, an universal Wolf, 

So doubly seconded with Will and Power, 

Must make perforce an universal prey, 

And, last, eat up himself. — 

This chaos, when Degree is suffocate, 

Follows the choking. 

And this neglection of Degree it is, 

That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose 

It hath to climb. The General's disdain'd 

By him one step below; he, by the next; 

That next, by him beneath ; so every step, 

Exampled by the first pace, that is sick 

Of his superior, grows to an envious fever 

Of pale and bloodless Emulation. 

HattCmaitt£. — Greville. 
TV/TAN is said to be a Rational Creature ; but should it not rather 
be said, that Man is a Creature capable of being Rational, as 
we say a Parrot is a Creature capable of Speech ? 

<L\aSi)1t£0S. — Shakspeare. 
HTHAT'S a valiant Flea, that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of 
a Lion. 

3ft easing.— PUny. 

He picked something out of every thing he read. 

3&tabinQ. — Johnson. 
T\rHAT we read with inclination makes a stronger impression. 
If we read without inclination, half the mind is employed in 
fixing the Attention, so there is but half to be employed on what 
we read. If a man begins to read, in the middle of a Book, and 
feels an inclination to go on, let him not quit it to go to the begin- 
ning. He may perhaps not feel again the inclination. 

I&eafcmg.— Bacon. 
"DEAD not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for 
granted, nor to find Talk and Discourse, but to weigh and 

lUaSOn. — Sir Philip Sidney. 
"REASON cannot show itself more reasonable, than to leave rea- 
soning on things above Reason. 


<KeaSOtt. — Burke. 
TyE are afraid to put men to live and trade each on his own 
private stock of Reason • because we suspect that this stock 
in each man is small, and that the individuals would do better to 
avail themselves of the general Bank and Capital of Nations and of 

Reason. — Sir W. Drummond. 
TTE that will not Reason is a Bigot, he that cannot Reason is a 
Fool, and he that dares not Reason is a Slave. 

l&eaiSOn. — La Rochefoucauld. 

TTE is not a reasonable Man who by chance stumbles upon Reason, 
but he who derives it from Kuowledge, from Discernment, and 

from Taste. 

Reason. —Anon. 

{~)NE can never repeat too often, that Reason, as it exists in man, 
is only our intellectual eye, and that, like the eye, to see, it 

needs Light, — to see clearly and far, it needs the Light of Heaven 

&efteUt01t. — Shalcspeare. 
Tl^HAT rein can hold licentious Wickedness, 

When down the hill he holds his fierce career? 
We may as bootless spend our vain command, 
Upon th' enraged Soldiers in their spoil, 
Or send precepts to th' Leviathan. 

<Ket Ufcmg. — Shakspeare. 
T\rHAT though the mast be now blown overboard, 

The cable broke, the holding Anchor lost, 
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood ? 
Yet lives our Pilot still : Is't meet, that he 
Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad, 
With tearful eyes add water to the Sea, 
And give more strength to that which hath too much, 
Whiles, in his moan, the Ship splits on the rock, 
Which Industry and Courage might have saved ? 
Ah, what a shame ! ah, what a fault were this ! 

Ifteuiiking. — Fuller. 

TN all Reprehensions, observe to express rather thy Love than 
thy Anger ; and strive rather to convince than exasperate : but 
if the Matter do require any special Indignation, let it appear to 
be the zeal of a displeased Friend, rather than the passion of a 
provoked Enemy. 


~T)IVERSIONS are the most properly applied, to ease and relieve 
those who are oppressed, by being too much employed. Those 
that are idle have no need of them, and yet they, above all others, 
give themselves up to them. To unbend our Thoughts, when they 
are too much stretched by our Cares, is not more natural than it 
is necessary ; but to turn our whole Life into a holyday, is not 
only ridiculous, but destroyeth Pleasure instead of promoting it. 

Refinement. — Greviiie. 

'TRUE Delicacy, as true Generosity, is more wounded by an of- 
fence from itself, if I may be allowed the expression, than to 

Refinement. — La Bruyere. 
HPHE most delicate, the most sensible of all Pleasures, consists in 
promoting the Pleasures of others. 

Refinement. — Greviiie. 

r FHERE seems to be something satisfactory resulting from every 
defect in Human Nature ! and it is in that satisfaction, me- 
thinks, that all the endearing refinements of Society consist; there 
are a thousand little and undefinable Delicacies in our conversation, 
our looks, and even Gestures, arising from these defects, which 
mutually require to be understood and returned ; nay, there are 
little indulgences due to these Defects, which the well-disposed and 
well-conceiving Mind feels a want to bestow as well as to receive, 
and will be uneasy and dissatisfied till an opportunity offers to do 
it ; and hence that first of Concerts, the play and harmony of ac- 
cording Minds ! 

Refinement. — Hume. 

TF refined sense, and exalted sense, be not so useful as Common 
Sense, their rarity, their novelty, and the nobleness of their 
objects, make some compensation, and render them the admiration 
of Mankind. 

Reform* — Lavater. 
TTE who reforms himself, has done more toward reforming the 
Public, than a crowd of noisy, impotent Patriots. 

Reforms. — Coiton. 

/^HARLES FOX said that Restorations were the most bloody 
of all Revolutions; and, he might have added, that Reforma- 
tions are the best mode of preventing the necessity of either. 


^.egtet. — Shakspeare. 
V\7TTAT ! old Acquaintance ! could not all this flesh 

Keep in a little life ? Poor Jack, farewell ! 
I could have better spared a better man. 

Ifteltgt'on, — Burke. 

\YTE know, and what is better, we feel inwardly, that Religion is 
the basis of civil Society, and the source of all good and of 
all comfort. In England we are so convinced of this, that there is 
no rust of Superstition with which the accumulated absurdity of 
the human mind might have crusted it over in the course of ages, 
that ninety-nine in a hundred of the People of England would not 
prefer to Impiety. 

HeligtOtt. — Hare. 
"^ORDSWORTH has told us the law of his own mind, the 
fulfilment of which has enabled him to reveal a new world of 
poetry : " Wisdom is oft-times nearer when we stoop than when 
we soar." That it is so likewise in Religion, wc are assured by 
those most comfortable words, " Except ye become as little chil- 
dren, ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven." 

1ft el t gum. — Coiton. 

■ ^HARLES the Fourth, after his abdication, amused himself in his 
retirement at St. Juste, by attempting to make a number of 
watches go exactly together. Being constantly foiled in this at- 
tempt, he exclaimed, "What a fool have I been to neglect ray own 
concerns, and to waste ray whole Life in a vain attempt to make all 
men think alike on matters of Religion, when I cannot even make 
a few Watches keep time together." 

l&eltgtOTt. — S. T. Coleridge. 
TTNLESS Christianity be viewed and felt in a high and compre- 
hensive way, how large a portion of our intellectual and moral 
Nature does it leave without Object and Action ! 

Heltgtcm.— South. 

'TRUTH, like a stately dame, will uot be seen, nor show herself 
at the first visit, nor match with the Understanding upon an 
ordinary Courtship or address. Long and tedious attendances must 
be given, and the hardest fatigues endured and digested : nor did 
ever the most pregnant Wit in the world bring forth any thing 
great, lasting, and considerable, without some Pain and Travail, 
some pangs and Throes before the delivery. Now all this that I 
have said is to show the force of diligence in the investigation of 
Truth, and particularly of the noblest of all Truths, which is that 
of Religion. 


$veltgtOtt.— Fuller. 
T>LACE not thy amendment only in increasing thy Devotion, but 
in bettering thy Life. This is the damning Hypocrisy of this 
age; that it slights all good Morality, and spends its zeal in mat- 
ters of Ceremony, and a form of Godliness without the Power of it. 

Religion. — Coiton. 

"DELIGION, like its votaries, while it exists on Earth, must have 
a body as well as a soul. A Religion purely spiritual might 
suit a being as pure, but Men are compound animals; and the body 
too often lords it over the Mind. 

IfteltgtOn. — S. T. Coleridge. 
VOU may depend upon it, Religion is, in its essence, the most 
gentlemanly thing in the World. It will alone gentilize, if 
unmixed with cant; and I know nothing else that will, alone. Cer- 
tainly not the Army, which is thought to be the grand embellisher 
of Manners. 

S&tllQifm. — Lavater. 
HHHE more Honesty a man has, the less he affects the air of a 

3&elt0tCllt.— Hare. 
"\TANY people make their own God ; and he is much what the 
French may mean, when they talk of Le bon Dieu, — very in- 
dulgent, rather weak, near at hand when we want any thing, bat 
far away out of sight when we have a mind to do wrong. Such a 
God is as much an Idol as if he were an Image of stone. 

ifteltgton. — Coiton. 

PHILOSOPHY is a bully that talks very loud, when the danger 
is at a distance ; but the moment she is hard pressed by the 
Enemy, she is not to be found at her post, but leaves the brunt of 
the Battle to be borne by her humbler but steadier comrade, Re- 

IfteltgtOn. — Anon. 
P ELIGION is the whole Bible : Sects pick out a part of it. But 
what whole ? The Living whole, to be sure — not the Dead 
whole : the Spirit ! not the letter. 

IfteltgtCtt. — Selden. 
'THEY that cry down Moral Honesty, cry down that which is a 
great part of my Religion — my Duty toward God, and my Duty 
toward Man. What care I to see a man run after a sermon, if he 
cozens and cheats as soon as he comes home. On the other side, 
Morality must not be without Religion ; for if so, it may change, 
as I see convenience. Religion must govern it. 


iSUltgtOn.— S. T. Coleridge. 
TF a man is not rising upward to be an Angel, depend upon it, he. 
is sinking downward to be a Devil. He cannot stop at the 
Beast. The most savage of men are not Beasts j they are worse, 
a great deal worse. 

1£eltQt0n.— South. 
TTE that is a Good Man, is three-quarters of his way toward the 
being a G-ood Christian, wheresoever he lives, or whatsoever 
he is called. 

^eltgtOTt. — & T. Coleridge. 
TF you bring up your children in a way which puts them out of 
sympathy with the Religious feelings of the Nation in which 
they live, the chances are, that they will ultimately turn out Ruffians 
or Fanatics, and one as likely as the other. 

l£eltCJtMt.— Pascal. 
T ET it not be imagined that the Life of a good Christian must 
necessarily be a Life of Melancholy and Gloominess ; for he 
only resigns some Pleasures, to enjoy others infinitely greater. 

WitUgiQn. — Melmoth. 

1" CANNOT but take notice of the wonderful love of God to man- 
kind, who, in order to encourage obedience to his Laws, has 
annexed a present, as well as future reward to a Good Life ; and 
has so interwoven our Duty and Happiness together, that while we 
are discharging our obligations to the one, we are, at the same time, 
making the best provision for the other. 

Religion.— Anon. 
1" IKE every other Power, Religion too, in widening her empire, 
may impair her sway. It has been seen too often, both in 
Philosophy and elsewhere, that, when people have fancied that the 
world was becoming Christian, Christianity was in fact becoming 

ifteltgtOlt.— Anon. 
T\THEN a man is told that the whole of Religion and Morality 
is summed up in the two Commandments, to love God, and to 
love our neighbour, he is ready to cry, like Charoba in Gebir, at 
the first sight of the Sea, " Is this the mighty Ocean ? Is this all ?" 
Yes ! all : but how small a part of it do your eyes survey ! only 
trust yourself to it ; launch out upon it ; sail abroad over it : you 
will find it has no end : it will carry you round the World. 

Helfgtmt* — Fuller. 

ATEASURE not Men by Sundays, without regarding wh^t they 
do all the Week after. 

W J 


lUltgtOTt. — Colton. 
A LL who have been great and good without Christianity, would 
have been much greater and better with it. If there be, anions 
the Sons of men, a single exception to this maxim, the divine 
Socrates may be allowed to put in the strongest claim. It was his 
high Ambition to deserve, by Deeds, not by creeds, an unrevealed 
Heaven, and by works, not by faith, to enter an unpromised land. 

l^dtgtOn, — Anon. 
TyHO are the most godlike of men ? The question might be a 
puzzling one, unless our language answered it for us : the 


SfteltfltOtt.— Colton. 
'THAT country where the Clergy have the most influence, and use 
it with the most Moderation, is England. 

lUltgtOtt.— Pope. 
For Virtue's self may too much zeal be had; 
The worst of madmen is a Saint run mad. 

lUitgton. — Colton. 

"HEN the Methodists first decide on the doctrine they approve, 
and then choose such Pastors as they know beforehand will 
preach no other, they act as wisely as a Patient, who should send 
for a Physician, and then prescribe to him what Medicines he ought 
to advise. 

l&eltgtcm. _ Colton. 

THERE can be no Christianity where there is no Charity, but 
the censorious cultivate the forms of Religion, that they may 
more freely indulge in the only pleasure of their lives — that of 
calumniating those who to their other feelings add not the Sin of 

Religion, — Colton. 

"PHILOSOPHY is a goddess, whose head indeed is in Heaven, 
but whose feet are upon Earth ; she attempts more than she 
accomplishes, and promises more than she performs ; she can teach 
us to hear of the calamities of others with Magnanimity; but it is 
Religion only that can teach us to bear our own with Resignation. 

Religion. —Addison. 
JTYPOCRISY itself does great Honour, or rather Justice, to Re- 
ligion, and tacitly acknowledges it to be an ornament to 
human nature. The Hypocrite would not be at so much pains to 
put on the appearance of Virtue, if he did not know it was the 
most proper and effectual means to gain the Love and Esteem of 


lUltgioit* — Cotton. 

"JV/TEN will wrangle for Religion; write for it; fight for it; die for 
it; any thing but — live for it. 

Ifteltgtcm. — Pope. 

'THERE is nothing wanting to make all rational and disinterested 
people in the world of one Religion, but that they should talk 
together every day. 

lUttgUm.— Cotton. 

A S all who frequent any place of Public Worship, however they 

may differ from the doctrines there delivered, are expected to 

comport themselves with Seriousness and Gravity, so in religious 

Controversies, Ridicule ought never to be resorted to on either side. 

KtliQWU. — Moore. 
'THOUGH thus, my Friend, so long employ'd, 

And so much midnight Oil destroy'd, 
I must confess, my Searches past, 
I only learn'd to doubt at last. 

lUltgtOtt.— Sprat 

'THE Head truly enlightened will presently have a wonderful in- 
fluence in purifying the Heart ; and the Heart really affected 
with Goodness, will much conduce to the directing of the Head. 

Religion.— CoU&n. 

TT has been said that men carry on a kind of coasting trade with Re- 
ligion. In the voyage of life, they profess to be in search of 
Heaven, but take care not to venture so far in their approximations 
to it, as entirely to lose sight of the Earth ; and should their frail 
vessel be in danger of Shipwreck, they will gladly throw their 
darling Vices overboard, as other. Mariners their treasures, only to 
fish them up again when the Storm is over. 

KcltgtfJTL — Baxter. 
TT is one thing to take God and Heaven for your portion, as be- 
lievers do, and another thing to be desirous of it, as a reserve 
when you can keep the World no longer. It is one thing to submit 
to Heaven, as a lesser evil than Hell : and another thing to desire it 
as a greater good than Earth. It is one thing to lay up treasures 
and hopes in Heaven, and seek it first ; and another thing to be 
contented with it in our necessity, and to seek the world before it, 
and give God that the flesh can spare. Thus difFereth the Religion 
of serious Christians, and of carnal, worldly Hypocrites. 

i^eltgton. — Pope. 

AN Atheist is but a mad, ridiculous derider of Piety ; but a Hy- 
pocrite makes a sober jest of God and Religion ; he find? it 
easier to be upon his knee than to rise to a good action. 



Religion.— Baxter. 
JF it were only the exercise of the body, the moving of the Lips, 
the bending of the Knee, men would as commonly step to 
Heaven as they go to visit a friend : but to separate our thoughts 
and affections from the world, to draw forth all our Graces, and 
increase each in its proper object, and to hold them to it till the 
Work prospers in our hands, — this, this is the difficulty. 

Religion. — Shakspeare. 
J^OVE thyself last; cherish those Hearts that hate thee; 

Corruption wins not more than Honesty. 
Still in thy right hand carry gentle Peace, 
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. 
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be 
Thy God's, and Truth's; then, when thou fall'st, 
Thou fall'st a blessed Martyr. 

Heltsum.— South. 

THE Pleasure of the Religious Man is an easy and portable Plea- 
sure, such an one as he carries about in his Bosom, without 
alarming either the Eye or the Envy of the world. — A man put- 
ting all his Pleasures into this one, is like a traveller's putting all 
his goods into one Jewel ; the value is the same, and the conve- 
nience greater. 

IfteltStOn.— Anon. 
'THE Religious are often charged with judging uncharitably of 
others; and perhaps the charge may at times be deserved. 
With our narrow, partial views, it is very difficult to feel the evil 
of an Error strongly, and yet to think kindly of him in whom we 
see it. 

Ifteltgion.— Coiton. 

THERE are three modes of bearing the Ills of Life ; by Indiffer- 
ence, which is the most common ; by Philosophy, which is the 
most ostentatious; and by Religion, which is the most effectual. 

HeltgtOtt. — Shaftesbury. 
TF we are told a man is religious, we still ask, what are his Mo- 
rals? But if we hear at first that he has honest Morals, and is 
a man of natural Justice and Good Temper, we seldom think of 
the other question, whether he be religious and devout ? 

KdtgtOlt.— Hare. 
THE Imagination and the Feelings have each their Truths, aa 
well as the Reason. The absorption of the three, so as to 
concentrate them in the same point, is one of the universalities re- 
quisite in a true Religion. 


£UltCJtOn Young. 


Without Star, or Angel, for their Guide, 
Who worship God, shall find him. Humble Love, 
And not proud Reason, keeps the door of Heaven ; 
Love finds admission, where proud Science fails. 

Religion,— Dry den. 
RUT whither went his Soul, let such relate 
Who search the secrets of a future state : 
Divines can say but what themselves believe ; 
Strong proofs they have, but not demonstrative : 
For, were all plain, then all sides must agree, 
And Faith itself be lost in certainty. 
To live uprightly then is sure the best : 
To save ourselves, and not to damn the rest. 

l&eltgton. — Coiton. 

TN all places, and in all times, those Religionists who havo 
believed too much, have been more inclined to Violence and 
Persecution, than those who have believed too little. 

l&eltgt(m. — Shakspeare. 
It is an Heretic that makes the Fire, 
Not he which burns in't. 

Hrlt'gtOn. — From the Latin. 
A man devoid of Religion, is like a Horse without a bridle. 

Religion. — Shakspeare. 
It is Religion that doth make vows kept. 

lieltgtOlt. — Byron. 
My altars are the Mountains and the Ocean, 
Earth, Air, Stars, — all that springs from the great Whole, 
Who hath produced, and will receive the Soul. 

Ifteltgtcm.— Pope. 

Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, 
But looks through Nature up to Nature's God. 

&tlWOr\. — Cowper. 
[ VENERATE the man, whose Heart is warn, 

Whose hands are pure ; whose doctrine and whose Life 
Coincident, exhibit lucid proof 
That he is honest in the Sacred Cause. 


personal l^rltgton Webster. 

J)OLITICAL emiDence and professional fame fade away and die 
with all things earthly. Nothing of character is really perma- 
nent but virtue and personal worth. These remain. Whatever 
of excellence is wrought into the soul itself belongs to both worlds. 
Eeal goodness does not attach itself merely to this life j it points 
to another world, Political or professional reputation cannot last 
forever; but a conscience void of offence before God and man is an 
inheritance for eternity. Religion, therefore, is a necessary and 
indispensable element in any great human character. There is no 
living without it. Religion is the tie that connects man with his 
Creator, and holds him to his throne. If that tie be all sundered, 
all broken, he floats away, a worthless atom in the universe; its 
proper attractions all gone, its destiny thwarted, and its whole 
future nothing but darkness, desolation, and death. A man with 
no sense of religious duty is he whom the Scriptures describe, in 
such terse but terrific language, as living "without God in the 
world." Such a man is out of his proper being, out of the circle 
of all his duties, out of the circle of all his happiness, and away, far, 
far away, from the purposes of his creation. 

Religion antf JHoralt'tp. — Washington. 

CXF all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prospority, 
Religion and Morality are indispensable supports. In vain 
would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should labour 
to subvert these great pillars of human happiness, these firmest 
props of the duties of men and citizens. And let us with caution 
indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without 
religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined 
education on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience 
both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in ex- 
clusion of religious principle. 

l&eaSOtt in l&eltgtOtt* — Archibald Alexander. 
r rHAT it is the right and the duty of all men to exercise their 
Reason in inquiries concerning Religion, is a truth so manifest, 
that it may be presumed there are none who will be disposed to 
call it in question. Without reason, there can be no religion; for 
in every step we take in examining the evidences of revelation, in 
interpreting its meaning, or in assenting to its doctrines, the exercise 
of this faculty is indispensable. When the evidences of Christianity 
are exhibited, an appeal is made to the reason of men for its truth ; 
but all evidence and all argument would be perfectly futile, if 
reason were not permitted to judge of their force. This noble 
faculty was certainly given to man to be a guide in religion as welJ 


as in other things. He possesses no other means by which he can 
form a judgment on any subject or assent to any truth ; and it 
would be no more absurd to talk of seeing without eyes, than of 
knowing any thing without reason. 

1&emem& ranee. — Skdkspeare. 

Remember thee? 
Yea, from the table of my Memory 
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, 
All saws of Books, all forms, all pressures past, 
That Youth and Observation copied there ; 
And thy commandment all alone shall live 
Within the Book and volume of my Brain, 
Unmix' d with baser matter. 

Hememferanee. — Shakspeare. 

Dispute it like a Man. 
I shall do so : 

But I must also feel it as a Man. 
I cannot but remember such things were, 
That were most precious to me. 

Iftemorse. _ Scott. 

TTIGrH minds, of native Pride and force, 
Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse ! 
Fear for their scourge mean Villains have ; 
Thou art the torturer of the Brave. 

WLWpmtmte.— Shakspeare. 
They say, best Men are moulded out of faults : 
And, for the most, become much more the better 
For being a little bad. 

ISepentanee.— Coiton. 

COME well-meaning Christians tremble for their Salvation, be- 
cause they have never gone through that valley of Tears and 
of Sorrow, which they have been taught to consider as an ordeal 
that must be passed through, before they can arrive at Regenera- 
tion ; to satisfy such minds, it may be observed, that the slightest 
sorrow for Sin is sufficient, if it produce Amendment, and that the 
greatest is insufficient, if it do not. 

Hepentanee. — South. 

"DEPENTANCE hath a purifying power, and every Tear is of a 
cleansing Virtue; but these penitential clouds must be still 
kept dropping; one shower will not suffice; for Repentance is not 
one single action, but a course. 



Repentance.— Rowe. 

TXABITUAL Evils change not on a sudden, 

But many days must pass, and many Sorrows : 
Conscious Remorse and Anguish must be felt, 
To curb Desire, to break the stubborn Will, 
And work a second nature in the Soul, 
Ere Virtue can resume the place she lost. 

Repentance. — Shdkspeare. 
T>EPLY not to me with a Fool-born jest; 

Presume not, that I am the thing I was : 
For Heaven doth know, so shall the world perceive, 
That I have turn'd away my former self; 
So will I those that kept me Company. 

Repentance. — Hare. 

\\TE look to our last sickness for Repentance, unmindful that it 
is during a Recovery men repent, not during a Sickness. 
For Sickness, by the time we feel it to be such, has its own Trials, 
its own selfishness : and to bear the one, and overcome the other, 
is at such a season occupation more than enough for any who 
have not been trained to it by previous Discipline and practice. 

Repentance. — La Rochefoucauld. 
OUR Repentance is not so much Regret for the Evil we have done 
as Fear of its Consequences to us. 

Repentance. — Shakspeare. 
Q WRETCHED state ! Bosom, black as Death 

limed Soul ; that struggling to be free, 
Art more engaged ! Help, Angels, make assay ! 
Bow, stubborn knees ! and, Heart, with strings of steel, 
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe. 

ReprOClf. — Sliakspeare. 
T'HOU hast cast away thyself, being like thyself: 

A Madman so long, now a Fool : What, think'st 
That the bleak air, thy boisterous Chamberlain, 
Will put thy shirt on warm ? Will these inoss'd trees, 
That have outlived the Eagle, page thy heels, 
And skip, when thou point' st out? Will the cold brook, 
Candied with Tee, caudle thy morning taste, 
To cure thy o'ernight's surfeit? call the creatures, — 
Whose naked natures live in all the spite 
Of wreakful Heaven ; whose bare unhoused trunks, 
To Ihe conflicting elements exposed, 
Answer mere Nature, — bid them flatter thee. 


RepillStOn. — ShaJcspeare. 

Strange is it, that our Bloods, 
Of Colour, Weight, and Heat, pour'd all together, 
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off 
In differences so mighty. 

Reputation.— Seweii. 

Q REPUTATION ! dearer far than Life, 

Thou precious balsam, lovely, sweet of smell, 
Whose cordial drops once spilt by some rash hand, 
Not all the owner's care, nor the repenting Toil 
Of the rude spiller, ever can collect 
To its first Purity and native Sweetness. 

Resentment. — Lutian. 

Even the Ant has bile. 

Resolution. — Shakspeare. 

DE stirring as the time ; be Fire with Fire ; 

Threaten the Threat'ner, and out-face the brow 
Of bragging Horror : so shall iuferior eyes, 
That borrow their behaviours from the Great, 
Grow great by your example, and put on 
The dauntless spirit of Resolution. 

Resolution. — Shakspeare. 
Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose 
That you resolved to effect. 

Respect — GrevUle. 
Respect is better procured by exacting than soliciting it. 

icel^ReSpeet. — ShaJcspeare. 

To thine ownself be true ; 
And it must follow, as the Night the Day; 
Thou can'st not then be false to any man. 

Sbtlbl&ttyetL — Fuller. 
"QE fearful only of thyself; and stand in awe of none more than 
of thine own Conscience. There is a Cato in every man ; a 
severe Censor of his Manners. And he that reverences this Judge, 
will seldom do any thing he need repent of. 

Responsibility. — Shakspeare. 
'Tis ever common, 
That men are merriest when they are from Home. 

ReStleSSneSS. — Sir Walter Raleigh. 
;r TIS plain there is not in Nature a point of stability to be found: 
every thing either ascends or declines : when Wars are ended 
abroad, Sedition begins at home; and when men are freed from 
fighting for Necessity, they quarrel through Ambition. 


UmiltS. — Colton. 
'TO judge by the event, is an error all abuse, and all commit ; for, 
in every instance, Courage, if crowned with success, is Heroism ; 
if clouded by Defeat, Temerity. When Nelson fought his battle 
in the Sound, it was the Result alone that decided whether he was 
to kiss a hand at a Court, or a rod at a Court-Martial. 

Retirement. — Goldsmith. 
CWEET was the sound, when oft at Evening's close, 

Up yonder hill the Village Murmur rose : 
There, as I pass'd with careless steps and sloWj 
The mingling notes came soften'd from below ; 
The Swain responsive as the Milkmaid sung, 
The sober Herd that low'd to meet their young; 
The noisy Geese that gabbled o'er the pool, 
The playful Children just let loose from School; 
The Watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whisp'ring wind, 
And the loud Laugh that spoke the vacant mind; 
These all in sweet Confusion sought the Shade, 
And fill'd each pause the Nightingale had made. 

Retirement.— miton. 

A ND may at last my weary Age 

Find out the peaceful Hermitage, 
The hairy gown and mossy cell, 
Where I may sit and rightly spell 
Of every star that Heaven doth shew, 
And every herb that sips the dew; 
Till old Experience do attain 
To something like prophetic strain. 

Retirement. — Spenser. 

r THE Fields did laugh, the Floures did freshly spring, 

The Trees did bud, and early blossomes bore, 
And all the quire of Birds did sweetly sing, 
And told that gardin's pleasures in their Caroling. 

Retirement. — Spenser. 

T'O them that list, the World's gay showes I leave, 

And to great ones such follies doe forgive, 
Which oft through Pride doe their owne perill weave, 

And through Ambition downe themselves doe drive 

To sad decay, that might contented live : 
Me no such cares nor cumbrous thoughts offend, 

Ne once my Mind's unmoved Quiet grieve, 
But all the night in silver Sleepe I spend, 
And all the day, to what I list I doe attend. 


Retirement. — Cowper. 

'THE fall of Waters and the song of birds, 
And hills that echo to the distant herds, 
Are luxuries excelling all the glare 
The World can boast, and her chief Favourites share. 

l&ettrement. — Thomson. 
"N"0 noise, no care, no Vanity, no strife : 

Men, woods, and fields, all breathe untroubled Life : 
Then keep each Passion down, however dear; 
Trust me, the tender are the most severe. 
Guard, while 'tis thiDC, thy philosophic Ease, 
And ask no Joy but that of virtuous Peace; 
That bids defiance to the storms of Fate, 
High Bliss is only for a higher state. 

Retirement. — Smollett. 

"^"ATURE I'll court in her sequester'd haunts, 

By Mountain, Meadow, streamlet, grove, or cell; 
Where the poised Lark his evening ditty chaunts, 
And Health, and Peace, and Contemplation dwell. 

Kcttrcment.— Pope. 

"RORN to no Pride, inheriting no strife, 
Nor marrying discord in a noble Wife, 
Stranger to civil and religious rage, 
The good man walk'd innoxious through his Age; 
No courts he saw, no suits would ever try, 
Nor dared an Oath, nor hazarded a Lie. 
Unlearn'd, he knew no schoolman's subtle art, 
No language but the language of the Heart. 
By Nature honest, by Experience wise, 
Healthy by Temp'rance aid by Exercise; 
His life, though long, to sickness pass'd unknown, 
His Death was instant, and without a groan. 
Oh grant me thus to live, and thus to die ! 
Who sprung from Kings shall know less joy than I. 

Retirement. — Thomson. 

T\THAT, what is Virtue but Repose of Mind, 

A pure ethereal Calm, that knows no storm; 

Above the reach of wild Ambition's wind, 
Above the Passions that this world deform, 
And torture Man, a proud malignant worm ; 

But here, instead, soft gales of Passion play, 
And gently stir the Heart, thereby to form 

A quicker sense of joy ; as breezes stray 

Across th' cnliven'd Skies, and make them still more gay, 


Retirement. — Smthey. 

"DUT peace was on the Cottage, and the fold 

From court intrigue, from bickering faction far; 
Beneath the chestnut tree Love's tale was told; 

And to the tinkling of the light guitar, 
Sweet stoop'd the western Sun, sweet rose the evening Star. 

Retirement — Mrs. Tighe. 

TTOW much they err, who to their interest blind, 

Slight the calm Peace which from Retirement flows ! 
And while they think their fleeting joys to bind, 
Banish the tranquil bliss which Heaven for Man design'd ! 

Retirement. — Hammond. 

\\THAT joy to hear the Tempest howl in vain, 
And clasp a fearful mistress to my breast ! 
Or lull'd to slumber by the beating Rain, 
Secure and bappy, sink at last to rest ! 

Retirement. —Johnson. 
C^OULDST thou resign the park and play, content, 

For the fair banks of Severn or of Trent ; 
There might'st thou find some elegant retreat, 
Some hireling Senator's deserted seat j 
And stretch thy prospects o'er the smiling land, 
For less than rent the dungeons of the Strand ; 
There prune thy walks, support thy drooping flow'rs, 
Direct thy Rivulets, and twine thy bow'rs; 
And, while thy beds a cheap repast afford, 
Despise the dainties of a venal Lord : 
There every bush with Nature's music rings, 
There every breeze bears Health upon its wings ; 
On all thy hours Security shall smile, 
And bless thy evening walk and morning toil. 

Retirement. — Mrs. Tighe. 

C\ PSYCHE, happy in thine Ignorance ! 

Couldst thou but shun this Heart-tormenting bane ' 
Be but content, nor daringly advance 

To meet the bitter hour of threatened pain ; 

Pure spotless Dove ! seek thy safe nest again ; 
Let true Affection shun the public eye, 

And quit the busy circle of the vain, 
For there the treacherous snares concealed lie ; 
Oh, timely warn'd, escape ! to safe Retirement fly ! 


Retirement.— BeatUe. 

(~)H, how canst thou renounce the boundless store 
Of charms which Xature to her votary yields ! 
The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, 
The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; 
All that the genial ray of Morning gilds, 
And all that echoes to the song of Even, 

All that the Mountain's sheltering bosom shields, 
And all tbe dread magnificence of Heaven, 
Oh, how canst thou renounce and hope to be forgiven ! 

Retirement. — Cowper. 

r THE Statesman, Lawyer, Merchant, Man of Trade 

Pants for the refuge of some rural Shade, 
Where all his long anxieties forgot 
Amid the charms of a sequester'd spot, 
Or recollected only to gild o'er 
And add a smile to what was sweet before, 
He may possess the Joys he thinks he sees, 
Lay his old age upon the lap of Ease, 
Improve the remnant of his wasted span, 
And having lived a Trifler, die a Man. 

Retirement.— Byron. 

r PO fly from, need not be to hate, Mankind ; 
All are not fit with them to stir and toil, 
Nor is it Discontent to keep the Mind 
Deep in its fountain, lest it overboil 
In the hot throng where we become the spoil 
Of our Infection, till too late and long 

We may deplore and struggle with the coil, 
In wretched interchange of wrong for wrong, 
Midst a contentious World, striving where none are strong 

Retirement. — Thomson. 
'THE best of men have ever loved Repose : 

They hate to mingle in the filthy fray, 
Where the Soul sours, and gradual Rancour grows 

Imbitter'd more from peevish day to day. 

Even those whom Fame has lent her fairest ray, 
The most renown'd of worthy wights of yore, 

From a base World at last have stolen away. 
So Scipio, to the soft Cumaean shore 
Retiring, tasted Joy he never knew before. 



Retirement — Shakspeare. 
[JOW Use doth breed a Habit in a man ! 
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, 
I better brook than flourishing peopled Towns. 

Retrospection. — Joanna Baillie. 
From the sad years of Life 
We sometimes do short Hours, yea, Minutes strike, 
Keen, blissful, bright, never to be forgotten ) 
Which, thro' the dreary gloom of Time o'erpast, 
Shine like fair sunny spots on a wild waste. 

Retrospection. — Skakspeare. 
A LAS, 'tis true, I have gone here and there, 

And made myself a motley to the view, 
Gored my own Thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, 

Made old offences of Affections new. 
Most true it is, that I have look'd on Truth 

Askance and strangely ; but, by all above, 
These blenches gave my Heart another youth, 

And worse essays proved thee my best of Love. 
Now, all is done, save what shall have no end : 

Mine appetite I never more will grind 
On newer proof, to try an older Friend, 

A God in love, to whom I am confined. 
Then give me welcome, next my Heaven the best, 
E'en to thy pure and most most loving breast. 

Retrospection. —Horace. 
tTE possesses dominion over himself, and is happy, who can every 
day say, " I have lived." To-morrow the Heavenly Father 
may either involve the World in dark clouds, or cheer it with clear 
Sunshine ; he will not, however, render ineffectual the things which 
have already taken place. 

Retrospection. — Steele. 

A MAN advanced in years, that thinks fit to look back upon his 
former Life, and call that only Life which was passed with Sa- 
tisfaction and Enjoyment, excluding all parts which were not plea- 
sant to him, will find himself very young, if not in his Infancy. 

Retrospection. —Martial 
OF no day can the Retrospect cause pain to a good man, nor has 
one passed away which he is unwilling to remember : the 
period of his Life seems prolonged by his good acts ; and we may 
be said to live twice, when we can reflect with Pleasure on tho 
lays that are gone. 


Retrospection, — Southey. 

T CAN remember, with unsteady feet 

Tottering from room to room, and finding pleasure 
In Flowers, and Toys, and Sweetmeats, things which long 
Have lost their power to please; which, when I see them, 
Raise only now a melancholy wish, 
I were the little Trifler once again 
Who could be pleased so lightly. 

Iftebenge. — Bacon. 

He that studieth Revenge keepeth his own wounds green. 

iftebolutton. — Coiton. 

T'HE Mob, like the Ocean, is very seldom agitated without some 
cause superior and exterior to itself; but (to continue the 
simile) both are capable of doing the greatest Mischief, after the 
cause which first set them in motion has ceased to act. 

IftebolUttOmgtg. — Sir T. More. 
T\rHO quarrel more than Beggars? Who does more earnestly 
long for a change than he that is uneasy in his present cir- 
cumstances ? And who run to create Confusions with so despe- 
rate a Boldness, as those who, having nothing else to lose, hope to 
gain by them ? 

HitfjeSL— Lord Bacon. 

TJE not penny-wise; Riches have Wings, and sometimes they fly 
away of themselves, sometimes they must be set flying to bring 
in more. 

HtdjeS — Sterne. 

j"F thou art rich, then show the Greatness of thy Fortune ; or 
what is better, the Greatness of thy Soul, in the meekness of 
thy Conversation ; condescend to men of low estate, support the 
distressed, and patronize the neglected. Be great, 

l£U$e!5. — Martial. 

y^HAT ! Old and rich, and childless too, 

And yet believe your Friends are true ? 
Truth might perhaps to those belong, 
To those who loved you poor and young : 
But, trust me, for the new you have, 
They'll love you dearly — in your Grave. 

Mtcf)e0. — Montaigne. 

"PLENTY and Indigence depend upon the opinion every one has 
of them ; and Riches, no more than Glory or Health, have no 
more Beauty or Pleasure, than their possessor is pleased to lend 



IfttCJeS — Young. 
"\rUCH Learning shows how little mortals know; 

Much Wealth, how little worldlings can enjoy : 
At best, it babies us with endless toys, 
And keeps us children till we drop to dust. 
As monkeys at a Mirror stand amazed, 
They fail to find what they so plainly see; 
Thus men, in shining Riches, see the face 
Of Happiness, nor know it is a shade; 
But gaze, and touch, and peep, and peep again, 
And wish, and wonder it is absent still. 

!ttCf)e0.— Sir T. Brown. 
He hath Riches sufficient, who hath enough to be charitable. 

3&MtUU.— Anon. 
T?VERY age has its besetting sins; every condition its attendant 
evils ; every state of Society its Diseases, that it is especially 
liable to be attacked by. One of the pests which dog civilization, 
the more so the further it advances, is the Fear of Ridicule ; and 
seldom has the Contagion been so obnoxious as in England at this 
day. Is there anybody living, among the upper classes at least,- 
who has not often been laughed out of what he ought to have done, 
and laughed into what he ought not to have done ? Who has not 
sinned ? who has not been a runagate from Duty ? who has not 
stifled his best feelings ? who has not mortified his noblest desires? 
solely to escape being laughed at? and not once merely; but time 
after time : until that which has so often been checked, becomes 
stunted, and no longer dares lift up its Head. And then, after 
having been laughed down ourselves, we too join the Pack who 
go about laughing down others. 

ISaClg %ii&in%. — Doddridge. 
HPHE difference between rising at five and seven o'clock in the 
Morning, for the space of forty years, supposing a man to go 
to bed at the same hour at Night, is nearly equivalent to the 
addition of ten years to a man's Life. 

?£xtxtmt Kiqtmx.— Burke. 

AN extreme Rigour is sure to arm every thing against it, and at 
length to relax into a supine Neglect. 

i&Ummit. — Shakspeare. 

Rumour is a pipe 
Blown by Surmises, Jealousies, Conjectures ; 
And of so easy and so plain a stop, 
That the blunt Monster with uncounted heads, 
The still discordant wavering Multitude, 
Can play upou it. 


IftUtttOUr. — Shahspeare. 

Loud Rumour speaks : 
I, from the Orient to the drooping West 
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold 
The acts commenced on this ball of Earth : 
Upon my tongues continual Slanders ride ; 
The which in every language I pronounce, 
Stuffing the ears of Men with false reports. 

Sacrifice. _ From the Greek. 
ITE that offers in sacrifice, Pamphilus, a multitude of Bulls 
and of Goats, of golden Vestments, or purple Garments, or 
figures of Ivory, or precious Gems, aud imagines by this to con- 
ciliate the favour of God, is grossly mistaken, and has no solid 
understanding; for he that would sacrifice with success, ought to 
be chaste and charitable, no Corrupter of Virgins, no Adulterer, 
no Robber or Murderer for the sake of lucre. Covet not, Pam- 
philus, even the thread of another man's needle; for God, who is 
near thee, perpetually beholds thy actions. 

Rational ^afegiiai'tiS. — Alexander Hamilton. 
QAFETY 'from external danger is the most powerful director of 
national conduct. Even the ardent love of liberty will, after a 
time, give way to its dictates. The violent destruction of life and 
property incident to war, the continual effort and alarm attendant 
on a state of continual danger, will compel nations the most at- 
tached to liberty to resort for repose and security to institutions 
which have a tendency to destroy their civil and political rights. 
To be more safe, they at length become willing to run the risk of 
being less free. 

Sftttetg. — Shahspeare. 
A Surfeit of the sweetest things 
The deepest loathing to the Stomach brings. 

Sattetg. — Byron. 

Passion raves herself to rest, or flies; 

And Vice, that digs her own voluptuous tomb, 
Had buried long his Hopes, no more to rise : 

Pleasure's pail'd Victim ! Life-abhorring gloom. 

Sattetg. — Shahspeare. 
A S Surfeit is the Father of much Fast, 

So every scope by the immoderate use 
Turns to Restraint : Our natures do pursue 
(Like rats that ravin down their proper bane) 
A thirsty Evil; and when we drink, we die. 


Sattetp. — Shakspeare. 

The cloy'd Will, 
(That satiate yet unsatisfied Desire, 
That tub both fill'd and running,) ravening first 
The Lamb, longs after for the Garbage. 

Sattetg. — Steele. 
PLEASURE, when it is a Man's chief purpose, disappoints 
itself; and the constant application to it palls the faculty of 
enjoying it, though it leaves the sense of our inability for that we 
wish, with a disrelish of every thing else. Thus the intermediate 
seasons of the Man of Pleasure are more heavy than one would 
impose upon the vilest Criminal. 


CATHIE'S my weapon, but I'm too discreet 

To run a-muck, and tilt at all I meet ; 
I only wear it in a land of Hectors, 
Thieves, Supercargoes, Sharpers, and Directors. 

Satire. — Pope. 

r^URST be the verse, how well soe'er it flow, 

That tends to make one worthy man my foe, 
Give Virtue Scandal, Innocence a Fear, 
Or from the soft-eyed Virgin steal a tear. 

SatUtfJag &\gfyt— Burns. 
NOVEMBER chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh», 

The short'ning Winter-day draws near a close; 
The miry beasts retreating frae the Pleugh ; 

The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : 

The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, 
This night his weekly moil is at an end, 

Collects his Spades, his Mattocks, and his Hoes, 
Hoping the morn at ease and rest to spend, 
And weary, o'er the Moor, his course does hameward bend. 

Sagmg antj HBomg.— Johnson. 

TT is not difficult to conceive, that, for many reasons, a man writes 
much better than he lives. For, without entering into refined 
Speculations, it may be shown much easier to design than to per- 
form. A man proposes his schemes of Life in a state of abstraction 
and disengagement, exempt from the enticements of Hope, the soli- 
citations of Affection, the importunities of Appetite, or the depres- 
sions of Fear, and is in the same state with him that teaches upon 
land the art of Navigation, to whom the sea is always smooth, and 
the wind always prosperous. 


JC&ktttg. — From the Latin. 
VO Gain is so certain as that which proceeds from the economical 
use of what you have 

Scepticism. — Coiton. 

A S the Man of Pleasure, by a vain attempt to be more happy 
than any man can be, is often more miserable than most men 
are, so the Sceptic, in a vain attempt to be wise beyond what is 
permitted to man, plunges into a Darkness more deplorable, and a 
Blindness more incurable than that of the common herd, whom he 
despises, and would fain instruct. 

Scepticism. — Greville. 
Human Knowledge is the parent of Doubt 

Scholastic. — Cou&n. 

TO sentence a man of true Genius to the drudgery of a School, is 
to put a Race Horse in a mill. 

&tf)00l. — Shenstone. 
T^THOE'ER excels in that we prize, 

Appears a Hero in our eyes : 
Each Girl, when pleased with what is taught, 
Will have the teacher in her thought. 
When Miss delights in her spinnet, 
A Fiddler may a fortune get ; 
A Blockhead, with melodious voice, 
In boarding-schools may have his choice ; 
And oft the Dancing Master's art 
Climbs from the toe to touch the heart. 

Science. — Anon. 
J> ACON'S prophecies of the advance of Science have been fulfilled 
far beyond what even he could have anticipated. For Know- 
ledge partakes of Infinity : it widens with our capacities : the higher 
we mount in it, the vaster and more magnificent are the prospects 
it stretches out before us. Nor are we in these days, as men are 
ever apt to imagine of their own times, approaching to the end of 
them : nor shall we be nearer the end a thousand years hence than 
we are now. The family of Science has multiplied : new Sciences, 
hitherto unnamed, unthought of, have arisen. The seed which 
Bacon sowed sprang up, and grew to be a mighty tree ; and the 
Thoughts of thousands of men came and lodged in its branches : 
and those branches spread " so broad and long, that in the ground 
the bended twigs took root, and Daughters grew about the Mother 
Tree, a pillared shade high overarched . . . and echoing walks be- 
tween/' . . . walks where Poetry may wander, and wreathe hei 

O 2 


blossoms around the massy stems, and where Religion may hymn 
the praises of that Wisdom, of which Science erects the Hundred- 
aisled Temple. 

£Tf)e Scriptures.— Boyle. 

A MATCHLESS Temple, where I delight to be, to contemplate 
the Beauty, the Symmetry, and the Magnificence of the Struc- 
ture, and to increase my awe, and excite my devotion to the Deity 
there preached and adored. 

Cf)e 3km. — Byron. 

T'HOU glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in Tempests : in all time, 

Calm or convulsed — in Breeze, or Gale, or Storm, 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving ; — boundless, endless, and sublime — 

The image of Eternity — the Throne 

Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime 

The monsters of the deep are made ; each Zone 

Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, Dread, Fathomless, Alone. 

2Tf)e Sea.— Byron. 
(^)H, who can tell ? not thou, luxurious Slave ! 

Whose Soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave; 
Not thou, vain Lord of wantonness and ease ! 
Whom Slumber soothes not — Pleasures cannot please — 
Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried, 
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide, 
The exulting sense — the pulse's madd'ning play, 
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way ? 

2Hje Sea. — Sir A. Hunt 
T LOVED to stand on some high beetling Rock, 

Or dusky brow of savage Promontory, 
Watching the Waves with all their white crests dancing 
Come, like thick-plumed Squadrons, to the shore, 
Gallantly bounding. 

Cf)e Sea. — Byron. 

T>OLL on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll i 

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; ^ 

Man marks the Earth with ruin — his control 
Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain 
The Wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 

A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 
When, for a moment like a drop of rain, 

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, 

Without a Grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown. 


3Tf)e &Z&. — Byton. 

How happy they, 
Who, from the toil and tumult of their Lives, 
Steal to look down where naught but Ocean strives ! 

irecrecg. — Coiton. 

CECRECY has been well termed the Soul of all great designs. 
Perhaps more has been effected by concealing our own inten- 
tions, than by discovering those of our Enemy. But great men 
succeed in both. 

%ttXtl£.— Johnson. 

nrO tell your own Secrets is generally Folly, but that Folly is 
without Guilt; to communicate those with which we are in- 
trusted is always Treachery, and Treachery for the most part com- 
bined with Folly. 

iceCt*CC;r> Mdssinger. 

T HAVE play'd the Fool, the gross Fool, to believe 

The bosom of a Friend would hold a Secret 
Mine own could not contain. 

=*fCreCg. _ Chesterfield. 
TF a Fool knows a Secret, he tells it because he is a Fool ; if a 
Knave knows one, he tells it whenever it is his interest to tell 
it. But Women and Young Men are very apt to tell what Secrets 
they know, from the vanity of having been trusted. 

£ecrec#. — La Rochefoucauld. 
JTOW can we expect another to keep our Secret if we cannot 
keep it ourselves ? 

Security. — Cotton. 
TT is fortunate for the interests of Society, that the great mass of 
mankind are neither Kings nor Prime Ministers, and that men 
are so impotent that they can seldom bring Evil upon others with- 
out more or less of danger to themselves. Thus then it is that 
Public Strength, Security, and Confidence grow out of Private 
Weakness, Danger, and Fear. 

^eCUritl). — Hume. 
gECURITY diminishes the Passions: the Mind, when left to 
itself, immediately languishes; and, in order to preserve its 
Ardour, must be every moment supported by a new flow of Passion. 
For the same reason Despair, though contrary to Security, has a 
like influence. 

SetJUCttCltt. — Goldsmith. 

Ah, turn thine eyes 
Where the poor houseless shivering Female lies : 


She, once perhaps, in Village plenty blest, 

Has wept at tales of Innocence distrest; 

Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, 

Sweet as the Primrose peeps beneath the thorn : 

Now lost to all; her friends, her Virtue fled, 

Near her Betrayer's door she lays her head, 

And, pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the show'r, 

With heavy Heart deplores that luckless hour, 

When idly first, ambitious of the Town, 

She left her Wheel and robes of country brown. 

SetJUCttUtU— Moore. 
Heaven ! I would rather for ever forsweai 
The elysium that dwells in a beautiful breast, 
Than alarm for a moment the Peace that is there, 
Or banish the Dove from so hallow' d a nest. 

B Y „ 

S^tlUCttOn. _ Skakspeare. 
'THEN weigh what loss your Honour may sustain, 

If with too credent ear you list his songs ; 
Or lose your Heart; or your chaste Treasure open 
To his unmaster'd importunity. 
Fear it, fear it, my dear sister; 
And keep you in the rear of your Affection, 
Out of the shot and danger of Desire. 

i£etfUCttOn* — Bums. 
TS there, in human form, that bears a Heart- 

A wretch ! a villain ! lost to love and Truth ! 
That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, 

Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth ? 

Curse on his perjured arts ! dissembling smooth ! 
Are Honour, Virtue, Conscience, all exiled ? 

Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, 
Points to the Parents fondling o'er their Child, 
Tben paints the ruin'd Maid, and their distraction wild ? 

SrtMCttOTU — Byron. 

C1HALL Beauty, blighted in an hour, 
Find joy within her broken bower ? 
No : gayer insects fluttering by 
Ne'er droop the wing on those that die, 
And lovelier things have Mercy shown 
To every failing but their own, 
And every woe a Tear may claim, 
Except an erring Sister's Shame. 


SefcUCttOn. — Shalcspeare. 
Ay, so you serve us, 
Till we serve you : but when you have our Roses, 
You barely leave our Thorns to prick ourselves, 
And mock us with our barenness. 

Setouctton.— coiton. 

\TTHEN Women send the Seduced to Coventry, but countenance 
and even court the Seducer, ought we not to wonder if Se- 
ductions were scarce ? 

jSelf^OttCett. — La Rochefoucauld. 
HPHERE are few people who are more often in the wrong than 
those who cannot endure to be so. 

g}tlfz<£antt(il. — Anon. 
r)NE of the most important, but one of the most difficult things 
for a powerful mind is, to be its own master. Minerva should 
always be at hand, to restrain Achilles from blindly following his 
Impulses and Appetites, even those which are moral and intellec- 
tual, as well as those which are animal and sensual. A Pond may 
lie quiet in a plain ; but a Lake wants Mountains to compass and 
hold it in. 

SelfsOTontCOl.— Goethe. 
"V^HAT is the best Government? That which teaches us to 
govern ourselves. 

Sel^(*!ontrOl. — Massinger. 
He that would govern others, first should be 
The Master of himself. 

&t\U(&tlXi\Xf3l.— English Proverb. 
[TE is a Fool who cannot be angry : but he is a wise man who 
will not. 

£clf'OTontrOl. — Seneca. 
[ WILL have a care of being a Slave to myself, for it is a perpe- 
tual, a shameful, and the heaviest of all servitudes ; and thia ' 
may be done by moderate Desires. 

£elf=OTontrol. — La Rochefoucauld. 
JHE Constancy of Sages is nothing but the art of locking up 
their Agitation in their hearts. 

~t\U ^Deception. — Gremlle. 
No Man was ever so much deceived by another as by himself. 


i£elf:=3£iamtnatt0n. — Pythagoras. 
T ET not Sleep fall upon thy Eyes till thou hast thrice reviewed 
the transactions of the past day. Where have I turned aside 
from Rectitude? What have T been doing? What have I left 
undone, which I ought to have done ? Begin thus from the first 
act, and proceed ; and, in conclusion, at the 111 which thou hast 
done, be troubled, and rejoice for the Good. 

&tlizlntm$t. — La Rochefoucauld. 
OUR Virtues disappear when put in competition with our In- 
terests, as Rivers lose themselves in the Ocean. 

&M$tynt$8. — Sterne. 
'THERE are some tempers — how shall I describe them — formed 
either of such impenetrable matter, or wrought up by habitual 
Selfishness to such an utter insensibility of what becomes of the 
Fortunes of their fellow-creatures, as if they were not partakers of 
the same Nature or had no lot or Connection at all with the 

g)M8\)nt88. — Young. 
The Selfish Heart deserves the pain it feels. 
More gen'rous Sorrow, while it sinks, exalts; 
And conscious Virtue mitigates the pang. 

Selfishness, — Coiton. 

THHERE are too many who reverse both the Principles and the 
practice of the Apostle ; they become all things to all Men, not 
to serve others, but themselves ; and they try all things only to 
hold fast that which is bad. 

£elf=3£ttotoletfge. — Coiton. 

TTE that knows himself, knows others; and he that is ignorant of 
himself, could not write a very profound lecture on other 
men's heads. 

SelfsKttOtDlebge* — Anon. 

THE first step to Self-knowledge is Self-distrust. Nor can we at- 

tain to any kind of Knowledge, except by a like process. 

i£el£=lLrjuc. — Coiton. 

T FEAR it must be admitted that our Self-love is too apt to draw 
some consolation, even from so bitter a source as the Calamities 
of others; and I am the more inclined to think so, when I consider 
the converse of this proposition, and reflect on what takes place 
within us, with respect to our Pleasures. The sting of our Pains 
is diminished by the assurance that they are common to all; but 
from feelings equally egotistical, it unfortunately happens that the 
zest and relish of our Pleasures is heightened by the contrary 

R, THIX G S NE W A XD L D. 4(31 

consideration, namely, that they are confined to ourselves. This 
conviction it is that tickles the palate of the Epicure, that inflames 
the ardour of the Lover, that lends Ambition her ladder, and ex- 
tracts the thorns from a Crown. 

Self^Uobe. — Coiton. 

vlELF-LOVE, in a well regulated breast, is as the Steward of the 
household, superintending the Expenditure, and seeing that 
Benevolence herself should be prudential, in order to be permanent, 
by providing that the reservoir which feeds should also be fed. 

£elM3ratSe. — Shakspeare. 
There's not one Wise Man among twenty will praise himself. 

£elf-^rttie. — Coiton. 

CELF-PRIDE is the common friend of our Humanity, and like 
the bell of our Church, is resorted to on all occasions ; it mi- 
nisters alike to our Festivals, or our Fasts; our Merriment, or our 
Mourning; our Weal, or our Woe. 

Self^HeSpeCt. — Shakspeare. 
Consideration like an angel came, 
And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him ; 
Leaving his body as a Paradise, 
To envelop and contain celestial spirits. 

TT is a strange way of showing our humble reverence and Love 
for the Creator, to be perpetually condemning aud reviling every 
thing that he has created. Were you to tell a Poet that his 
poems are detestable, would he thauk you for the compliment? 
The Evil on which it behooves us to fix our eyes, is that within 
ourselves, of our own begetting ; the Good without. The half-re- 
ligious are apt just to reverse this. 

^Clf^Uf&CtenCg. — La Rochefoucauld. 
A MAN who shows himself too well satisfied with himself, is sel 
dom pleased with others, and they, in return, are little dia 
posed to like him. 

£elU&on\unt. — Coiton. 

r rHEREare many moral Actaeons, who are as miserably devoured 
by objects of their own choosing, as was the fabulous one, by 
his own Hounds. 

Self^^^OCSfjtp.— Coiton. 
"\1TERE we to say that we admire the tricks and gambols of a 
Monkey, but think nothing of that Power that created those 
limbs and muscles by which these are performed — even a Coxoomb 


would stare at such an asseveration j and yet he is in the daily com- 
mission of a much grosser contradiction, since he neglects his 
Maker, but worships himself. 

SntStutlttp. — Moore. 
(~)H ! Life is a waste of wearisome hours, 

Which seldom the rose of Enjoyment adorns ; 
And the Heart that is soonest awake to the flowers, 
Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns. 

Sntmtrilttg. — Coiton. 

SENSIBILITY would be a good portress, if she had but one hand; 
with her right she opens the door to Pleasure, but with her 
left to Pain. 

i&enmfltlttp.— Rogers. 
'THE soul of Music slumbers in the shell, 

Till waked and kindled by the Master's spell; 
And feeling Hearts — touch them but lightly — pour 
A thousand melodies unheard before ! 

SenSUalttg. — Shakspeare. 
What is a Man, 
If his chief good, and market of his time, 
Be but to sleep, and feed ? a beast, no more. 
Sure, He, that made us with such large discourse, 
Looking before, and after, gave us not 
That capability and godlike Reason 
To rust in us unused. 

iBenmtalttg. — Seneca. 
TF Sensuality were Happiness, beasts were happier than men; 
but human Felicity is lodged in the Soul, not in the Flesh. 

g>ett0Uaittg. —Shakspeare. 

Ingrateful Man, with liquorish draughts, 
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure Mind, 
That from it all consideration slips. 

Smsualttg. —Plato. 

'THOSE wretches who never have experienced the sweets of 
Wisdom and Virtue, but spend all their time in revels and 
Debauches, sink downward day after day, and make their whole 
life one continued series of errors. They never have the courage 
to lift the eye upward toward Truth, they never felt any the least 
inclination to it. They taste no real or substantial Pleasure ; but, 
resembling so many Brutes, with eyes always fixed on the Earth, 
and intent upon their loaden tables, they pamper themselves up in 
Luxury and Excess. 


Setbattt*. — Fuller. 

TF thou hast a loitering Servant, send him of thy Errand just 
before his Dinner. 

Serbants. _ Fuller. 

;f TIS better that thou be rather something sparing, than very 
liberal, to even a good Servant j for as he grows full, he in- 
clines either to be idle, or to leave thee : and if he should at any 
time murmur, thou mayst govern him by a seasonable Reward. 

Serbants.— Fuller. 

TF thou employest plain Men, and canst find such as are commonly 
honest, they will work faithfully, and report fairly. Cunning 
Men will, for their own Credit, adventure without Command ; and 
from thy business derive Credit to themselves. 

-CrbantS. — Fuller. 
~DE not too familiar with thy Servants; at first it may beget 
Love, but in the end 'twill breed Contempt. 

icetbante. — Fuller. 

/^OMMAND thy Servant advisably with few plain Words, fully, 
freely, and positively, with a grave Countenance, and settled 
Carriage : These will procure Obedience, gain Respect, and main- 
tain Authority. 

SetbantS. — Slienstone. 
'THE trouble occasioned by want of a Servant, is so much less 
than the plague of a bad one, as it is less painful to clean a 
pair of shoes than undergo an excess of Anger. 

Cf)e &tXt*.— Cotton. 
~^"0 improvement that takes place in either of the Sexes can 
possibly be confined to itself; each is an universal Mirror to 
each ; and the respective Refinement of the one will always be in 
reciprocal proportion to the polish of the other. 

icfjafospcate. — Anon. 
"PVERY Age has its own peculiar forms of moral and intellectual 
Life ; and Goethe has fully proved that an abundant store of 
materials for the creative powers of the Imagination were to be 
found, by those who had Eyes to discern them, in what might have 
been deemed an utterly prosaic Age. The difficulty to which I am 
referring, is that which he himself has so happily expressed, when 
in speaking of some comparisons that had been instituted between 
himself and Shakspeare, he said, " Shakspeare always hits the 
right nail on the Head at once ; but I have to stop and think 
which is the right nail, before I hit/' 



ictjafcSpeate. — Dryden. 
CHAKSPEARE was the man who, of all modem and perhaps 
ancient Poets, had the largest and most comprehensive Soul. 
All the images of Nature were still present to him, and he drew 
them not laboriously, but luckily; when he describes any thing, 
you more than see it, you feel it too. Those who accuse him to 
have wanted Learning, give him the greater commendation ; he 
was naturally learned ; he needed not the spectacles of books to 
read Nature ; he looked inward, and found her there. 


"M"0 poet comes near Shakspeare in the number of bosom lines, — 
of lines that we may cherish in our bosoms, and that seem 
almost as if they had grown there, — of lines that, like Bosom 
Friends, are ever at hand to comfort, counsel, and gladden us 
under all the vicissitudes of Life, — of lines that, according to 
Bacon's expression, " come home to our business and Bosoms/' 

&$ak8$taxe. — Anon. 

C\¥ the wonderful excellence of his Plays, we have no reason for 
believing that Shakspeare was at all aware ; though Sterling 
does not go beyond the mark, when he says, that, "if in the wreck 
of Britain, and all she has produced, one creation of her spirit 
could be saved by an interposing Genius, to be the endowment of 
a new World," it would be the volume that contains them. Yet 
Shakspeare himself did not take the trouble of publishing that 
volume; and even the single Plays printed during his life seem to 
have been intended for playgoers, rather than to gain Fame for 
their Author. 

SljafclSpeate.— Anon. 
*^JO Heart would have been strong enough to hold the wo of Lear 
and Othello, except that which had the unquenchable elasticity 
of Falstaff and the " Midsummer Night's Dream." He too is an 
example that the perception of the ridiculous does not necessarily 
imply bitterness and scorn, Along with his intense Humour, and 
his equally intense piercing insight into the darkest, most fearful 
depths of Human Nature, there is still a spirit of universal Kind- 
ness, as well as universal Justice, pervading his works : and Ben 
Jonson has left us a precious memorial of him, where he calls him 
" My gentle Shakspeare." This one epithet sheds a beautiful light 
on his character : its truth is attested by his Wisdom : which could 
never have been so perfect, unless it had been harmonized by the 
gentleness of the Dove. 


£f)afcspeare. — Anon. 

CHAKSPEARE'S genius could adapt itself with such nicety to 
all the varieties of ever- varying Man, that in his "Titus An- 
dronicus" he has portrayed the very dress of mind which the people 
of the declining Empire must have worn. I can conceive that the 
degenerate Romans would clothe their thoughts in just such words. 
The sayings of the free-garmented folks in " Julius Caesar" could 
not have come from the close-buttoned generation in "Othello. " 
Though human Passions are the same in all ages, there are modifi- 
cations of them dependent on the circumstances of time and place, 
which Shakspeare has always caught and expressed. He has thus 
given such a national tinge and epochal propriety to his Characters, 
that, even when one sees Jaques in a bag-wig and sword, one may 
exclaim, on being told that he is a French nobleman, "This man 
must have lived at the time when the Italian taste was prevalent 
in France/' How differently does he moralize from King Henry 
or Hamlet ! although their Morality, like all morality, comes to 
pretty nearly the same conclusion. 

iotafcspearc— Anon. 

'THE whole race of the giants would never pile an Ossa on this 
Olympus ; their missiles would roll back on their heads from 
the feet of the Gods that dwell there. Even Goethe and Schiller, 
when they meddled with Shakspeare, and would fain have mended 
him, have only proved, what Voltaire, and Dryden himself, had 
proved before, that "Within his circle none can walk but he." 
Nor, when Shakspeare's genius passed away from the earth, did any 
one akin to him reign in his stead. Indeed, according to that law 
of alternation, which is so conspicuous in the whole history of 
Literature, it mostly happens that a period of extraordinary Fer- 
tility is followed by a period of Dearth. After the seven plenteous 
years come seven barren years, which devour the produce of the 
plenteous ones, yet continue as barren and ill-favoured as ever. 

portrait Of f)hnsetf. — Shakspeare. 
THOUGH from an humble stock, undoubtedly 

Was fashion'd to much Honour. From his cradle, 
He was a Scholar, and a ripe, and good one; 
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading: 
Lofty, aud sour, to them that loved him not; 
But to those men that sought him, sweet as Summer. 

&t)amt. — Plaiitus. 
I consider that man to be undone who is insensible to Shame. 

SbitkXltBB. — FubUus Syrus. 
THE sick man acts a foolish part, who makes his Physician his 


£0tCkne£S£. — Burton. 
QICKNESS, the mother of Modesty, puts us in mind of our Mor- 
tality, and while we drive on heedlessly in the full career of 
worldly pomp and Jollity, kindly pulls us by the ear, and brings 
us to a proper sense of our Duty. 

Silence. — Shakspeare. 

The Silence often of pure iDnocence 
Persuades, when speaking fails. 

Silence. —La Rochefoucauld. 
C1ILENCE is the safest course for any man to adopt who distrusts 

Silence. — Shakspeare. 
0, my Antonio, I do know of these, 
That therefore only are reputed wise, 
For saying nothing. 

Silence. — Coiton. 

A MAN'S Profundity may keep him from opening on a first in- 
terview, and his Caution on a second ; but I should suspect his 
Emptiness, if he carried on his Reserve to a third. 

Silence is a Virtue in those who are deficient in understanding. 

Silence. — Burke. 
TE the prudence of Reserve and Decorum dictates Silence in some 
circumstances, in others prudence of a higher order may justify 
us in speaking our Thoughts. 

Silence. — & T. Coleridge. 
Silence does not always mark Wisdom. 

Stmpttcitg*-- Shakspeare. 

Whose Nature is so far from doing harms, 
That he suspects none. 

Simplicity. —Addison. 
\yHEN a man is made up wholly of the Dove, without the least 
grain of the Serpent in his composition, he becomes ridicu- 
lous in many circumstances of Life, and very often discredits his 
best actions. 

Simplicity- — Steele. 
Simplicity, of all things, is the hardest to be copied. 

Simplicity. — Shakspeare. 
He is of a free and open nature, 
That thinks men honest, that but seem to be so , 
And will as tenderly be led by th' Nose, 
As Asses are. 


irtTL — Barrow. 
CIN is never at a stay ; if we do not retreat from it, we shall ad- 
vance in it ; and the farther on we go, the more we have to 
come back. 

<Sut» — Shakspeare. 
All unavoided is the doom of Destiny, — 
When avoided Grace makes destiny. 

Sttt. — Baxter. 
[TSE Sin as it will use you; spare it not, for it will not spare 
you ; it is your Murderer, and the Murderer of the World ; 
use it, therefore, as a Murderer should be used. Kill it before it 
kills you; and though it kill your bodies, it shall not be able to 
kill your souk ; and though it bring you to the grave as it did 
your Head, it shall not be able to keep you there. If the thoughts 
of Death and the Grave and Rottenness be not pleasant to you, 
hearken to every temptation to Sin, as you would hearken to a 
temptation to Self-murder, and as you would do if the Devil brought 
you a knife, and tempted you to cut your throat with it : so do 
when he oifereth you the bait of Sin. You love not Death; love 
not the cause of Death. 

5ttt. — Seneca. 
TVHAT is more miserable than to see an old man only just enter- 
ing on the practice of Virtue. 

£tn. — South. 

QIN is the fruitful Parent of distempers, and ill lives occasion good 

2>ttt. — Shakspeare. 

Sin will pluck on Sin. 

&in. — Tillotson. 
fiJHAME is a great restraint upon sinners at first; but that soon 
falls off: and when men have once lost their Innocence, their 
Modesty is not like to be long troublesome to them. For Impu- 
dence comes on with Vice, and grows up with it. Lesser vices do 
not banish all Shame and Modesty; but great and abominable 
Crimes harden men's foreheads, and make them shameless. When 
men have the Heart to do a very bad thing, they seldom want the 
face to bear it out. 

Smcetttg. — Tillotson. 

CIXCERITY is like travelling in a plain, beaten road, which com- 
monly brings a man sooner to his journey's end than by-ways, 
in which men often lose themselves. 



Sincerity — Shakspeare. 
^TIS Words are bonds, his Oaths are oracles ; 
His Love sincere, his Thoughts immaculate ; 
His Tears, pure messengers sent from his Heart ; 
His Heart as far from fraud, as Heaven from Earth. 

Smceritj). — Tiihtson. 

TF the show of any thing be good for any thing, I am sure Sincerity 
is better; for why does any man dissemble, or seem to be that 
which he is not, but because he thinks it good to have such a Qua- 
lity as he pretends to. 

ShtCerttp, _ £ a Rochefoucauld. 
"Weak persons cannot be sincere. 

Sincerity _£ a Rochefoucauld. 
ClINCERITY is an opening of the Heart. We find it in very 
few people ; and that which we generally see is nothing but a 
subtle Dissimulation to attract the Confidence of others. 

jSMttBularttj) — coiton. 

T ET those who would affect Singularity with success, first deter- 
mine to be very virtuous, and they will be sure to be very sin- 

Slander. — Spenser. 
A ND therein wore a thousand Tongs empight 
Of sundry kindes and sundry quality ; 
Some were of Dogs, that barked day and night, 
And some of Cats, that wrawling still did cry, 
And some of Beares, that groynd continually, 
And some of Tygres, that did seem to gren, 

And snar at all that ever passed by; 
But most of them were tongues of Mortall Men, 
Which spake reproachfully, not caring where nor when. 

ioi&ntlCt, — Shakspeare. 
Whose edge is sharper than the Sword; whose Tongue 
Out-venoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath 
Bides on the posting winds, and doth belie 
All corners of the World : Kings, Queens, and States, 
Maids, Matrons, nay, the secrets of the Grave 
This viperous Slander enters. 

Slander. —Hare. 
T\TIIEN will talkers refrain from Evil-speaking ? When listeners 
refrain from Evil-hearins;. 


glZriim.— Byron. 
'THE circle smiled, then whisper'd, and then sneer'd ; 

The Misses bridled, and the Matrons frown'd ; 
Some hoped things might not turn out as they fear'd ; 
Some would not deem such Women could be found ; 
Some ne'er believed one half of what they heard ; 

Some look'd perplex'd, and others look'd profound ; 
And several pitied with sincere regret 
Poor Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet. 

iclatrtJet* — Spenser. 
TTER Face was ugly, and her Mouth distort 

Foming with poyson round about her gils, 
In which her cursed Tongue full sharpe and short 

Appear'd like asp'is Sting, that closely kils 

Or cruelly does wound whomso she wils. 
A Distaffe in her other hand she had, 

Upon the which she little spinnes, but spils; 
And faynes to weave false Tales and leasing bad, 
To throw amongst the Good which others had disprad. 

irlattticr. — Shakspeare. 
T'HE Shrug, the Hum, or Ha; these petty brands, 
That Calumny doth use : — 
For Calumny will sear 
Virtue itself: — these Shrugs, these Hums, and Ha's, 
When you have said, she's goodly, come between, 
Ere you can say, she's honest. 

i&lantlCr. — Byron. 
CKILL'D by a touch to deepen Scandal's tints, 

With all the kind mendacity of hints, 
While mingling Truth with Falsehood, sneers with smiles, 
A thread of Candour with a web of wiles ; 
A plain blunt show of briefly-spoken seeming, 
To hide her bloodless Heart's soul-harden'd scheming; 
A lip of lies, a face form'd to conceal ; 
And, without feeling, mock at all who feel: 
With a vile mask the Gorgon would disown, 
A cheek of parchment, and an eye of stone. 

Slander. — Anon. 

Slander meets no regard from noble minds ; 
Only the base believe, what the base only utter. 
Slander* _ Byron. 

That abominable Tittle-Tattle, 

The cud eschew'd by human cattle. 


ftl8ifttf«— Smft. 

~\TOR do they trust their Tongues alone, 

But speak a language of their own ; 
Can read a Nod, a Shrug, a Look, 
Far better than a printed Book ; 
Convey a Libel in a Frown, 
And wink a Reputation down; 
Or, by the tossing of the fan, 
Describe the Lady and the Man. 

The jewel, best enamell'd, 
Will lose his Beauty; and though Gold 'bides still, 
That others touch, yet often touching will 
Wear Gold ; and so no man that hath a name, 
But Falsehood and Corruption doth it shame. 

Scantier . — Spenser. 
A FOUL and loathy Creature sure in sight, 
And in conditions to be loath'd no lesse, 
For she was stuft with Rancour and Despight 
Up to the Throat, that oft with bitternesse 
It forth would breake and gush in great excesse, 
Pouring out streames of Poyson and of Gall 

'Gainst all that Truth or Vertue doe professe, 
Whom she with leasings lewdly did miscall, 
And wickedly backbite : her name men Sclaunder call. 

Siamfrer. — Spenser. 
CLAUNDEROUS reproches, and fowle Infamies, 

Leasings, backbytinges, and vain-glorious crakes, 
Bad counsels, prayses, and false Flatteries ; 
All those against that fort did bend their batteries. 

Slander. _ Scott. 

r\K ! many a shaft, at random sent, 

Finds mark the archer little meant ; 
And many a Word, at random spoken, 
May soothe or wound a Heart that's broken. 

Scantier. — Shakspeare. 
We must not stint 
Our necessary actions, in the fear 
To cope malicious Censurers ; which ever, 
As ravenous Fishes, do a vessel follow, 
That is new trimm'd ; but benefit no farther 
Than vainly longing. 


planter. — Oowper. 

The Man that dares traduce because he can 
With safety to himself, is not a Man. 

Stfatttar.— Byr&n. 

HTHE World, as usual, wickedly inclined 

To see a Kingdom or a House o'erturn'd, 
Whisper'd he had a mistress; some said two, 
But for domestic quarrels one will do. 

Slanutr. — Spenser. 
MO wound, which warlike hand of Enemy 

Inflicts with dint of sword, so sore doth light, 
As doth the poysnous sting which Infamy 

Infixeth in the name of noble wight : 

For by no Art nor any Leeches might 
It ever can recured be again ; 

Ne all the skill which that immortal spright 
Of Podalyrius did in it retaine, 
Can remedy such Hurts ; such Hurts are Hellish Pain. 

i&lanutr;. — Thomson. 

The whisper'd tale, 
That, like the fabling Nile, no fountain knows. 
Fair-faced Deceit, whose wily conscious eye 
Ne'er looks direct. The Tongue that licks the dust, 
But, when it safely dares, as prompt to sting. 

Scantier ShaJcspcare. 

~V"0 might nor greatness in Mortality 

Can Censure 'scape ; back-wounding Calumny 
The whitest Virtue strikes : What King so strong, 
Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue ? 

Sleep. — Steele. 
TN thee, Oppressors soothe their angry brow ; 

In thee, th' oppress'd forget tyrannic pow'r; 
In thee, 

The wretch condemn'd is equal to his Judge ; 
And the sad Lover to his cruel fair; 
Nay, all the shining Glories men pursue, 
When thou art wanted, are but empty noise. 

Sleep. — Sir T.Brown. 
CLEEP is Death's younger brother, and so like him, that I never 
dare trust him without my Prayers. 


&lCC$. — Shakspeare. 

gentle Sleep, 
Nature's soft Nurse, how have I frighted thee, 
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, 
And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? 
Why rather, Sleep, ly'st thou in smoky cribs, 
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, 
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber; 
Than in the perfumed chambers of the Great, 
Under the canopies of costly State, 
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest Melody ? 
Oh thou dull God, why ly'st thou with the vile 
In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch 
A watch-case, or a common 'larura-bell ? 
Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast, 
Seal up the Ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains, 
In cradle of the rude imperious Surge ; 
And in the visitation of the winds, 
Who take the ruffian billows by the top, 
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them 
With deaf'ning clamours in the slipp'ry shrouds, 
That, with the hurley, Death itself awakes ? 
Canst thou, partial Sleep, give thy repose 
To the wet Sea-boy in an hour so rude ? 
And, in the calmest and the stillest Night, 
With all appliances and means to boot, 
Deny it to a King ? 

Sleep, — Shakspeare. 

'Tis her breathing that 
Perfumes the chamber thus : The flame o' the taper 
Bows toward her ; and would under-peep her lids, 
To see the enclosed Lights, now canopied 
Under these Windows : White and azure, laced 
With blue of Heaven's own tinct. 

Sleep, — Shakspeare. 
Q POLISH'D Perturbation ! golden Care ! 

That keep'st the ports of Slumber open wide 
To many a watchful night ! — sleep with it now ! 
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, 
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin bound, 
Snores out the watch of Night. Majesty ! 
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
Like a rich Armour, worn in heat of day, 
That scalds with safety. 


Sleep ♦ — Shakspeare. 
gLEEP, that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of Care, 

The Death of each clay's Life, sore Labour's bath, 
Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, 
Chief nourisher in Life's feast ! 

Sleep. — Shakspeare. 
"JIS not the Balm, the Sceptre and the Ball, 
The Sword, the Mace, the Crown imperial, 
The enter-tissued robe of gold and pearl, 
The farsed title running 'fore the King, 
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp 
That beats upon the high shore of this world ; 
No, not all these thrice-gorgeous Ceremonies, 
Not all these, laid in bed raajestical, 
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave ; 
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind, 
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread ; 
Never sees horrid Night, the child of Hell ; 
But, like a lacquey, from the rise to set, 
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus ; and all night 
Sleeps in Elysium ; next day, after dawn, 
Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse ; 
And follows so the ever-running year 
With profitable labour to his grave : 
And (but for Ceremony) such a wretch, 
Winding up Days with toil, and Nights with Sleep, 
Had the forehand and vantage of a King. 

S^ep.— Mrs. Tighe. 

QH ! thou best comforter of that sad Heart 

Whom Fortune's spite assails ) come, gentle Sleep, 

The weary mourner soothe ! For well the art 
Thou knowest in soft forgetfulness to steep 
The Eyes which Sorrow taught to watch and weep; 

Let blissful visions now her spirits cheer, 
Or lull her cares to Peace in Slumbers deep, 

Till, from fatigue refresh' d and anxious Fear, 

Hope, like the Morning-star, once more shall reappear. 

Sleep* — Shakspeare. 
"PNJOY the honey-heavy dew of Slumber : 

Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies, 
Which busy Care draws in the brains of men ; 
Therefore thou sleep' st so sound. 


g>Utp.— Young. 

"YTAN'S rich Restorative ; his balmy bath, 

That supples, lubricates, and keeps in play 
The various movements of this nice machine, 
Which asks such frequent periods of repair. 
When tired with vain rotations of the Day, 
Sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn ; 
Fresh we spin on, till Sickness clogs our wheels, 
Or Death quite breaks the spring, and motion ends. 

Sleep.— Byron. 

Strange state of being ! (for 'tis still to be) 
Senseless to feel, and with seal'd Eyes to see. 

Sleep,— Byron. 

A ND she bent o'er him, and he lay beneath, 

Hush'd as the babe upon its mother's breast, 
Droop'd as the Willow when no winds can breathe, 

Lull'd like the deep of Ocean when at rest, 
Fair as the crowning rose of the whole wreath, 
Soft as the callow Cygnet in its rest. 

£Ut$. — ShaJcspeare. 
I wish mine Eyes 
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts : I find, 

They are inclined to do so 

Do not omit the heavy offer of it ; 

It seldom visits Sorrow ; when it doth, 

It is a Comforter. 

Sleep, — Beaumont. 
TTOW happy is that balm to wretches, Sleep ! 

No cares perplex them for their future state, 
And fear of Death thus dies in senseless Sleep ; 
Unruly Love is this way lull'd to rest ; 
And injured Honour, when redress is lost, 
Is no way salved but this. 

Sleep. — ShaJcspeare. 
Sleep, thou ape of Death, lie dull upon her ! 
And be her sense but as a Monument, 
Thus in a chapel lying ! 

Sl££P* — Byron. 
'THE crowd are gone, the Revellers at rest ; 

The courteous host, and all-approving guest, 
Again to that accustom'd couch must creep, 
Where Joy subsides, and Sorrow sighs to sleep, 


And man o'erlabour'd with his being's strife, 

Shrinks to that sweet forgetfulness of Life : 

There lie Love's feverish hope, and Cunning's guile ; 

Hate's working brain, and lull'd Ambition's wile : 

O'er each vain eve oblivion's pinions wave, 

And quench'd existence crouches in a grave. 

What better name may Slumber's bed become ? 

Night's Sepulchre, the universal Home, 

Where Weakness, Strength, Vice, Virtue, sunk supine, 

Alike in naked helplessness recline ; 

Glad for awhile to heave unconscious breath, 

Yet wake to wrestle with the dread of death, 

And shun, though day but dawn on ills increased, 

That Sleep, the loveliest, since it dreams the least. 

Sleep. — Shakspeare. 
Downy Sleep, Death's counterfeit. 

SoCtetg. — Thomson. 
TTAIL, social Life ! into thy pleasing bounds 

Again I come to pay the common stock, 
My share of service, and, in glad return, 
To taste thy Comforts, thy protected Joys. 

gomtg.— Byron. 

gOCIETY itself, which should create 

Kindness, destroys what little we had got : 
To feel for none is the true social art 
Of the world's stoics — men without a Heart. 

g>mtt$ Pope. 

TTEAVEN forming each on other to depend, 

A Master, or a Servant, or a Friend, 
Bid * each on other for assistance call, 
Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all. 
Wants, Frailties, Passions, closer still ally 
The common interest, or endear the tie. 
To these we owe true Friendship, Love sincere, 
Each home-felt joy that Life inherits here. 

£(JCtCtg. — Milton. 
Among unequals what Society 
Can sort, what Harmony or true delight. 

£0CtCtp. — Cowper. 
A TAN in Society is like a Flow'r, 

Blown in its native bed. 'Tis there alone 
His faculties expanded in full bloom 
Shine out, there only reach their proper use. 



Somtg. — Pope. 
A/TAN, like the generous Vine, supported lives : 

The strength he gains is from th' embrace he gives. 
On their own axis as the planets run, 
Yet make at once their circle round the Sun; 
So two consistent motions act the soul ; 
And one regards itself, and one the whole. 
Thus God and Nature link'd the general frame, 
And bade Self-love and Social be the same. 

£0Ctet£- — Moore. 
THOUGH few the days, the happy evenings few, 

So warm with Heart, so rich with mind they flew, 
That my full Soul forgot its wish to roam, 
And rested there, as in a dream at Home ! 

&0mtg.— Byron. 

Society is now one polish'd Horde, 

Form'd of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored. 

SuCtCtj). — Charron. 
Q.REAT towns are but a larger sort of prison to the Soul, like 
cages to birds, or pounds to beasts. 

Softness. — Shakspeare. 
He hath a person, and a smooth dispose, 
To be suspected; framed to make Women false. 

SulttUfre.— Pope. 
"DEAR, me, some God ! oh, quickly bear me hence 

To wholesome Solitude, the nurse of Sense ; 
Where Contemplation prunes her ruffled wings, 
And the free soul looks down to pity Kings ! 

SolttUtie.— Beattie. 
A ND oft the craggy Cliff he loved to climb, 

When all in mist the World below was lost. 
What dreadful Pleasure ! there to stand sublime, 
Like shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast, 
And view th' enormous waste of Vapour, tost 
In billows, lengthening to th' horizon round, 

Now scoop'd in gulfs, with mountains now emboss'd ! 
And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, 
Flocks, Herds, and Waterfalls, along the hoar profound ! 
g>Olttttfcf.— Bd&rmne. 
SOLITUDE is one of the highest enjoyments of which our Na- 
ture is susceptible. Solitude is also, when too long continued, 
capable of being made the most severe, indescribable, unendurable 
source of Anguish. 


JCClttUtJC — Byron. 
nrO sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, 
To slowly trace the Forest's shady scene, 
Where things that own not Man's dominion dwell, 

And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been ; 

To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, 
With the wild flock that never needs a fold; 

Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean : 
This is not Solitude; 'tis but to hold 
Converse with Nature's charms, and see her stores unroll'd. 

But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of Men, 
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, 

And roam along, the World's tired denizen, 
With none to bless us, none whom we can bless ; 
Minions of splendour shrinking from distress ! 

None that, with kindred Consciousness endued, 
If we were not, would seem to smile the less 

Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued; 

This is to be alone ; this, this is Solitude ! 

<£olttUtJC — Byron. 
TF Solitude succeed to Grief, 

Release from pain is slight relief, 
The vacant bosom's wilderness 
Might thank the pang that made it less. 
We loathe what none are left to share — 
Even Bliss — 'twere Wo alone to bear. 
The Heart once left thus desolate, 
Must fly at last, for ease — to hate. 

iCClttUfce. — Rochester. 
T)EAR solitary groves, where Peace does dwell ! 
Sweet harbours of pure Love and Innocence ! 
How willingly could I for ever stay 
Beueath the shade of your embracing greens, 
List'ning to the Harmony of warbling birds, 
Tuned with the gentle murmur of the streams ; 
Upon whose bank, in various livery, 
The fragrant offspring of the early year, 
Their heads, like graceful swans, bent proudly down, 
See their own beauties in the crystal Flood. 

SolttUne. — Byron. 
J" LIVE not in myself, but I become 

Portion of that around me ; and to me, 
High Mountain* are a feeling, but the hum 
Of human cities Torture. 


SolttUfce. — Young. 
The World's a school 
Of wrong, and what proficients swarm around ! 
We must imitate, or disapprove; 
Must list as their accomplices, or foes. 
That stains our Innocence; this wounds our Peace. 
From nature's birth, hence, Wisdom has been smit 
With sweet Recess, and languish'd for the Shade. 

&OittlrtlC.— Milton. 
'THERE in close covert by some brook, 

Where no profaner eye may look, 
Hide me from Day's garish eye, 
While the bee with honied thigh, 
That at her flowery work doth sing, 
And the Waters murmuring, 
With such consort as they keep, 
Entice the dewy -feather' d Sleep. 

icdlttUtie. — Byron. 

r rHERE is a Pleasure in the pathless woods, 
There is a Rapture on the lonely shore, 

There is Society, where none intrudes, 
By the deep sea, and music in its roar : 
I love not Man the less, but Nature more, 

From these our interviews, in which I steal 
From all I may be, or have been before, 

To mingle with the Universe, and feel 

What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

icOlttUtie. — Byron. 
A RE not the Mountains, Waves, and Skies, a part 
Of me and of my Soul, as I of them ? 
Is not the love of these deep in my heart 
With a pure Passion ? should I not contemn 
All objects, if compared with these ! and stem 
A tide of sufferings, rather than forego 

Such feelings for the hard and worldly phlegm 
Of those whose eyes are only turn'd below, 
Gazing upon the ground, with thoughts which dare not 
glow ? 

icOlttUtie. — Byron. 
T)ERHAPS there's nothing — I'll not say appals, 

But saddens more by Night as well as day, 
Than an enormous Room without a soul 
To break the lifeless Splendour of the whole. 


SolttUto* — Spenser. 
'THE joyous Birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade, 

Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet j 
Th' angelicall soft trembling voyees made 

To th' instruments divine Respondence meet; 

The silver sounding instruments did meet 
With the base murmure of the Waters fall ; 

The Waters fall with difference discreet, 
Now soft, now loud, unto the Wind did call ; 
The gentle warbling Wind low answered to all. 

Solttlttie.— Young. 

SACRED Solitude! divine Retreat ! 

Choice of the prudent ! envy of the great ! 
By thy pure stream, or in thy waving shade, 
We court fair Wisdom, that celestial maid : 
The genuine offspring of her loved embrace, 
(Strangers on earth !) are Innocence and Peace. 

SolttUtie. — Cowper. 
How sweet, how passing sweet, is Solitude ! 
But grant me still a friend in my retreat, 
Whom I may whisper, Solitude is sweet. 

JCOlttlrtie. — Milton. 
Solitude is sometimes best society, 
And short Retirement urges sweet return. 

i&OlitUtie. — Young. 
Oh ! lost to Virtue, lost to manly Thought, 
Lost to the noble sallies of the Soul ! 
Who think it Solitude to be alone. 

JCOlttUto. — Rogers. 
No, 'tis not here that Solitude is known. 
Through the wide World he only is alone 
Who lives not for another. 

j&OlttUtie.— Byron. 
(~)H ! that the Desert were my dwelling-place, 

With one fair spirit for my minister, 
That I might all forget the Human Race, 
And, hating no one, love but only her ! 
Ye Elements ! — in whose ennobling stir 

1 feel myself exalted — Can ye not 

Accord me such a being ? Do I err 
In deeming such inhabit many a spot? 
Though with thorn to converse can rarely be our lot 



JCOlttlltie.— Campbell. 
ENTHUSIAST of the Woods ! when years apace 

Had bound thy lovely waist with woman's zone, 
The sunrise Path at morn I see thee trace, 
To hills with high Magnolia overgrown, 
And joy to breathe the Groves, romantic and alone 

Sfltttlto). — Shakspeare. 
The Heart hath treble wrong, 
When it is barr'd the aidance of the Tongue. 

An oven that is stopped, or River staid, 
Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage : 
So of concealed Sorrow may be said. 

Sotroto. —Johnson. 
QORROW is a kind of rust of the Soul, which every new idea 
contributes in its passage to scour away. It is the putrefac- 
tion of stagnant Life, and is remedied by Exercise and Motion 

icOtrofcO. — Shakspeare. 
Short time seems long, in Sorrow's sharp sustaining, 
Though Wo be heavy, yet it seldom sleeps, 
And they who watch, see Time how slow it creeps. 

SortOb). — Shakspeare. 
Sorrow, like a heavy-hanging Bell, 
Once set on ringing, with his own weight goes : 
Then little strength rings out the doleful knell. 

SottOto. — Shakspeare. 
Give Sorrow words : the Grief, that does not speak, 
Whispers the o'erfraught Heart, and bids it break. 

SOtroto. — Shakspeare. 
Impatience waiteth on true Sorrow. 

JcCrruto. — Shakspeare. 
OH, if thou teach me to believe this Sorrow, 

Teach thou this Sorrow how to make me die ; 
And let belief and Life encounter so, 
As doth the fury of two desperate Men, 
Which, in the very meeting, fall and die. 

£c8lT0u3. — Shakspeare. 
We are fellows still, 
Serving alike in Sorrow. Lcak'd is our Bark, 
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck, 
Hearing the surges threat : we must all part 
into the Sea of Air. 


icOClOh). — Shakspeare. 
"RUT lie, nis own affections' Counsellor, 

Is to himself, I will not say, how true ; 
But to himself so secret and so close, 
So far from sounding and Discovery; 
As is the bud bit with an envious worm, 
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, 
Or dedicate his Beauty to the Sun. 

Sorrcto* _ Shakspeare. 
AND now and then an ample Tear trill'd down 

Her delicate cheek : it seem'd, she was a Queen 
Over her passion, which, most rebel-like, 
Sought to be King o'er her. 
Patience and Sorrow strove 

Which should express her goodliest. You have seen 
Sunshine and rain at once : — her Smiles and Tears 
Were like a wetter May. Those happiest smiles, 
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 
What guests were in her Eyes ; which parted thence, 
As pearls from diamonds dropt. — In brief, 
Sorrow would be a Rarity most beloved, 
If all could so become it. 

SottOto. — Shakspeare. 

T ! here the hopeless merchant of this loss, 

With head declined, and Voice dam in 'd up with wo 
With sad set eyes and wretched arms across, 

From lips new-waxen pale begins to blow 

The Grief away, that stops his answer so ; 
But wretched as he is, he strives in vain ; 
What he breathes out, his Breath drinks up again. 

As through an arch the violent roaring tide 
Out-runs the eye, that doth behold his haste; 

Yet in the eddy boundeth in his Pride 
Back to the strait, that forced him on so fast, 
In rage sent out, recall'd in rage being past : 
Even so his sighs, his Sorrows, make a saw, 
To push Grief on, and back the same Grief draw. 

SortOto. — Thomson. 

So many great 
Illustrious spirits have conversed with Wo, 
Have in her school been taught, as are enough 
To consecrate Distress, and make Ambition 
Even wish the frown beyond the smile of Fortune. 


^0 CCO lU, — Shakspeare. 
I never saw a vessel of like Sorrow, 
So fill'd, and so becoming. 

JcOCrOUJ. — Shakspeare. 

When my Heart, 
As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain, 
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me ; 
I have (as when the Sun doth light a storm) 
Buried this Sigh in wrinkle of a Smile : 
But Sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming Gladness, 
Is like that Mirth Fate turns to sudden Sadness. 

2H)e SbOUl. — Shakspeare. 
Look, who comes here ! a Grave unto a Soul ; 
Holding the eternal Spirit against her will, 
In the vile prison of afflicted breath. 

^§Z icOUl. — Joanna Baillie. 

He who will not give 
Some portion of his Ease, his Blood, his Wealth, 
For other's Good, is a poor frozen churl. 

Ef)0 SOttl. — Shakspeare. 
"POOR Soul, the centre of my sinful earth, 

Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array, 
Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth, 

Painting thy outward walls so costly gay ? 
Why so large cost, having so short a lease, 

Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend ? 
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, 

Eat up thy charge ? Is this thy Body's end ? 
Then, Soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, 
And let that pine to aggravate thy store ; 
Buy terms Divine in selling hours of dross; 
Within be fed, without be rich no more : 
So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men : 
And, Death once dead, there's no more dying then. 

SHjC Sbml. — S. T. Coleridge. 
T?iri*t£R we have an immortal Soul, or we have not. If we 
have not, we are Beasts ; the first and wisest of beasts, it may 
be ; but still true Beasts. We shall only differ in degree, and not 
in kind ; just as the elephant differs from the slug. But by the 
concession of the materialists of all the schools, or almost all, we 
are not of the same kind as Beasts ; and this also we say from our 
own Consciousness. Therefore, methinks, it must be the possession 
of a Soul within us that makes the difference. 


Cf)e SOUl. — Cicero. 

TF I am mistaken in mj opinion that the Human Soul is im- 
mortal, I willingly err; nor would I have this pleasant Error 
extorted from me : and if, as some minute Philosophers suppose,, 
Death should deprive me of my being, I need not fear the raillery 
of those pretended Philosophers when they are no more. 

Cf)e icOUL — Jean Paul. 
'THERE are Souls which fall from Heaven like flowers ; but ere 
the pure and fresh buds cau open, they are trodden in the 
dust of the Earth, and lie soiled and crushed under the foul tread 
of some brutal Hoof. 

Cf)e 5)0ttL— Addison. 

'THE Soul, secure in her existence, smiles 

At the drawn dagger, and defies its point : 
The Stars shall fade away, the Sun himself 
Grow dim with age ; and Nature sink in years : 
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, 
Unhurt amid the War of Elements, 
The Wreck of matter, and the crash of Worlds. 

£Tf)C jcOUL— Armstrong. 
'THERE is, they say, (and I believe there is,) 

A spark within us of th' Immortal Fire, 
That animates and moulds the grosser frame ; 
And when the Body sinks, escapes to Heaven, 
Its native seat, and mixes with the Gods. 

3Tf)e SOUL — Montgomery. 
'THE Soul, of origin divine, 

God's glorious Image, freed from clay, 
In Heaven's eternal sphere shall shine 

A Star of Day ! 
The Sun is but a spark of Fire, 
A transient meteor in the sky ; 
The Soul, immortal as its Sire, 

Shall never die. 

Cfje JcuUl. —Hannah More. 
'THE Soul on earth is an immortal guest, 
Compell'd to starve at an unreal feast : 
A spark, which upward tends by Nature's force : 
A stream diverted from its Parent source ; 
A drop dissever'd from the boundless Sea ; 
A moment, parted from Eternity; 
A Pilgrim panting for the rest to come; 
An Exile, anxious for his native Home. 


Cf)C £0UL— Rahel. 
'J'HE Affections and the Will know nothing of a future; the 
Mind — the Judgement — calls it up and gives it the force ana 
Life of the present. The Mind alone is free, self-acting, and 
directed toward the unknown ; the Heart is bound to what is 
before it. 

2H)e &0Ul. — Sterne. 
J>EST unto our souls! — 'tis all we want — the end of all our 
wishes and pursuits : give us a prospect of this, we take the 
wings of the Morning and fly to the uttermost parts of the Earth 
to have it in possession : till after many miserable experiments, we 
have been seeking everywhere for it, but where there is a prospect 
of finding it ; and that is within ourselves, in a meek and lowly 
disposition of heart. 

Cf)e *0UL — Greville. 
f HARDLY know a sight that raises one's Indignation more, 
than that of an enlarged Soul joined to a contracted Fortune; 
unless it be that so much more common one, of a contracted Soul 
joined to an enlarged Fortune. 

^ptttt.— Byron. 
JJEAUTIFUL Spirit ! with thy hair of light, 
And dazzling eyes of Glory, in whose form 
The charms of Earth's least mortal daughters grow 
To an unearthly stature, in an essence 
Of purer Elements ; while the hues of Youth, — 
Carnation'd like a sleeping infant's cheek, 
Rock'd by the beating of her mother's Heart, 
Or the rose-tints, which summer's twilight leaves 
Upon the lofty glacier's virgin snow, 
The blush of Earth, embracing with her Heaven, — 
Tinge thy celestial aspect, and make tame 
The beauties of the Sunbow which bends o'er thee. 

Ivtgfjt ^Ptrtt. —Jonathan Edwards. 

A MAN of a Right Spirit is not a man of narrow and private 

views, but is greatly interested and concerned for the good of 

the community to which he belongs, and particularly of the city or 

village in which he resides, and for the true welfare of the society 

of which he is a member. 

SHje Spleen. — Pope. 

Hail, wayward Queen ! 
Who rule the sex to fifty from fifteen; 
Parent of vapours, and of female wit, 
Who give th' hysteric, or poetic Fit, 
On various Tempers act by various ways, 


Make some take Physic, others scribble plays ; 
Who cause the proud their visits to delay, 
And send the Godly in a pet to pray. 

Cf)e g>$Uttl.— Byron. 

ONE has false Curls, another too much paint, 

A third — where did she buy that frightful Turban ? 
A fourth's so pale, she fears she's going to faint, 

A fifth's looks vulgar, dowdyish and suburban, 
A sixth's white Silk has got a yellow taint : 

A seventh's thin Muslin surely will be her bane, 
And lo ! an eighth appears — " I'll see no more !" 
For fear, like Banquo's kings, they reach a score. 

C J)e Spring. — Thomson. 

In these green days, 
Reviving Sickness lifts her languid head ; 
Life flows afresh ; and young-eyed Health exalts 
The whole creation round. Coutentment walks 
The sunny glade, and feels an inward bliss 
Spring o'er his mind, beyond the power of Kings 
To purchase. 

&te Spring. — Thomson. 
Wide flush the fields ; the softening Air is balm ; 
Echo the mountains round; the Forest smiles; 
And every Sense, and every Heart is Joy. 

&je Spring.— miton. 

TTAIL bounteous May, that dost inspire 

Mirth, Youth, and warm Desire : 
Woods and groves are of thy dressing, 
Hill and dale doth boast thy Blessing. 

&!)£ Opting. — Thomson. 
"PROM the moist meadow to the wither'd hill, 
Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs, 
And swells, and deepens; to the cherish'd eye 
The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves 
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, 
Till the whole leafy Forest stands display'd, 
In full luxuriance to the sighing gales. 

Cfje Statesman. — MUtan, 

With grave 
Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd 
A Pillar of State ; deep on his front engraven 
Deliberation sat, and public Care ; 
And princely counsel in his face shone 


Cf)C ftaitteStorm. _ Thomson. 

A LONG the woods, along the moorish fens, 

Sighs the sad Genius of the coming Storm ; 
And up among the loose disjointed cliffs 
And fractured mountains wild, the brawling brook 
And cave, presageful, send a hollow m£>an, 
Resounding long in listening Fancy's ear. 

Cf)e ILanbz&tQxm. — Thomso?i. 

A boding silence reigns, 
Dread through the dun expanse j save the dull sound 
That from the Mountain, previous to the Storm, 
Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, 
And shakes the forest leaf without a breath. 
Prone, to the lowest vale, aerial tribes 
Descend : the tempest-loving raven scarce 
Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze 
The Cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens 
Cast a deploring eye ; by Man forsook, 
Who to the crowded Cottage hies him fast, 
Or seeks the shelter of the downward Cave. 

3T{)e Smoto^tOnit. _ Thomson. 
TN vain for him the officious Wife prepares 

The fire fair blazing, and the vestment warm ; 
In vain his little children, peeping out, 
Into the mingling storm, demand their Sire, 
With tears of artless Innocence. Alas ! 
Nor Wife, nor Children, more shall he behold, 
Nor friends, nor sacred home. On every nerve 
The deadly Winter seizes; shuts up Sense, 
And, o'er his inmost Vitals creeping cold, 
Lays him along the Snows, a stiffen'd corse, 
Stretch'd out, and bleaching in the northern Blast. 

Storytelling. — Swift. 

gTORY-TELLING is subject to two unavoidable Defects ; frequent 
repetition and being soon exhausted ; so that whoever values 
this gift in himself, has need of a good Memory, and ought frequently 
to shift his Company. 

bribing. — Coiton. 

PTE that strives for the mastery, must join a well disciplined body 
to a well regulated mind; for with mind and body, as with 
Man and Wife, it often happens that the stronger vessel is ruled by 
the w T eaker, although in moral, as in domestic Economy, matters are 
best conducted where neither party is unreasonable, and where both 
are agreed. 


Shrift. — From the Latin. 
We hate the Hawk because he always lives in arms. 

StUtJg. — Shakspeare. 
C1TUDY is like the Heaven's glorious sun, 

That will not be deep search'd with saucy looks : 
Small have continual plodders ever won, 
Save base Authority from others' books. 

StUtlg. — Shakspeare. 

Continue your resolve 
To suck the sweets of sweet Philosophy. 
Only, while we do admire 
This Virtue, and this moral discipline, 
Let's be no stoics, nor no stocks, I pray, 
Or so devote to Aristotle's checks, 
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured : 
Talk logic with acquaintance that you have, 
And practise rhetoric in your common talk ; 
Music and Poesy use to quicken you; 
The mathematics, and the metaphysics, 
Fall to them, as you find your stomach serves you : 
No. profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en ; — 
In brief, Study what you most affect. 

StUtij). — Shakspeare. 
TJNIVERSAL plodding prisons up 

The nimble spirits in the arteries; 
As motion, and long-during action, tires 
The sinewy Vigour of the Traveller. 

CJtUty).— St. Evremond. 
QTUDY has something cloudy and melancholy in it, which spoils 
that natural Cheerfulness, and deprives a man of that readiness 
of wit, and freedom of fancy, which are required toward a polite 
Conversation. Meditation has still worse effects in civil society ; 
wherefore let me advise you to take care, that you lose not by it 
with your Friends what you think to gain with yourself. 

StUtjp.— Seneca. 
FF you devote your time to Study, you will avoid all the irksome- 
ness of this Life, nor will you long for the approach of Night, 
being tired of the Day ; nor will you be a burden to yourself, nor 
your Society insupportable to others. 

Stgle.— Feltham. 
J^ SENTENCE well couched, takes both the Sense and the Un- 



Stpie. — Swift. 
"PROPER words in proper places make the true definition of a 
X Style. 

Stgle. — From the Latin. 
TTIS Style shows the man. Whether in speaking or writing, a 
gentleman is always known by his style. 

political Suuserbtencg.— CaUwun. 

"UIRACY, robbery, and violence of every description may, as his- 
tory proves, be followed by virtue, patriotism, and national 
greatness ; but where is the example to be found of a degenerate, 
corrupt, and subservient people, who have ever recovered their 
virtue and patriotism ? Their doom has ever been the lowest state 
of wretchedness and misery : scorned, trodden down, and obliterated 
for ever from the list of nations. May heaven graut that such may 
never be our doom ! 

i&UCCe00. — Higgons. 
TTAD I miscarried, I had been a Villain ; 

For men judge actions always by events : 
But when we manage by a just foresight, 
Success is Prudence, and Possession Right. 

SUCCCS0. — Thomson. 
TT is Success that colours all in life : 

Success makes Fools admired, makes Villains honest : 
All the proud Virtue of this vaunting world 
Fawns on Success, and Power, howe'er acquired. 

SUCCeSS. — Cotton. 
TTE that has never known Adversity, is but half acquainted with 
others, or with himself. Constant success shows us but one 
side of the world. For, as it surrounds us with Friends, who will 
tell us only our merits, so it silences those Enemies from whom 
alone we can learn our defects. 

SUCCeSS. — Shakspeare. 
'THE great man down, you mark, his favourite flies; 

The poor advanced makes Friends of enemies. 
And hitherto doth Love on fortune tend : 
For who not needs, shall never lack a Friend ; 
And who in want a hollow Friend doth try, 
Directly seasons him his Enemy. 

SutCfoe.-r Lucretius. 

OH ! deaf to Nature, and to Heaven's command ! 

Against thyself to lift the murdering hand ! 
damn'd Despair ! — to shun the living light, 
And plunge thy guilty Soul in endless Night ! 


guitibe. — Blair. 
r^UR time is fix'd j and all our days are number'd ; 

How long, how short, we know not : this we know, 
Duty requires we calmly wait the summons, 
Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission. 
Like sentries that must keep their destined stand, 
And wait th' appointed hour, till they're relieved 
Those only are the Brave who keep their ground, 
And keep it to the last. To run away 
Is but a Coward's trick : to run away 
From this World's ills, that at the very worst 
Will soon blow o'er, thinking to mend ourselves 
By boldly vent'ring on a World unknown, 
And plunging headlong in the dark ! 'tis mad : 
No Frenzy half so desperate as this. 

SutCtUe, — Shakspeare. 

Against Self-Slaughter 
There is a prohibition so divine, 
That cravens my weak hand. 

ffltUtal SutCttie. — Chesterfield. 
T LOOK upon indolence as a sort of Suicide ; for the Man is effi- 
ciently destroyed, though the appetite of the Brute may survive. 

Summer. — Moore. 
'HTWAS noon; and every Orange-bud 

Hung languid o'er the crystal flood, 
Faint as the lids of maiden eyes 
Beneath a Lover's burning sighs ! 

Cf)* SUTl. — Moore. 

A ND see the Sun himself ! on wings 

Of Glory up the East he springs. 
Angel of Light ! who from the time 
Those Heavens began their march sublime, 
Hath first of all the starry choir 
Trod in his Maker's steps of Fire ! 

Cf)e Suit. — Cowley. 
'THOU tide of Glory, which no rest doth know, 

But ever ebb and ever flow ! 
Thou golden shower of a true Jove ! 
Who doth in thee descend, and Heaven to Earth make love i 

Cf)e Sun. — Byron. 
Would that yon orb, whose matin glow 
Thy listless Eyes so much admire, 
Did lend thee something of his Fire ! 


Cf)e ShKXl. — Byron. 

Thou material God ! 
And representative of the Unknown — 
Who chose thee for his shadow ! Thou chief star ! 
Centre of many stars ! which makest our Earth 
Endurable, and temperest the hues 
And Hearts of all who walk within thy rays ! 
Sire of the seasons ! Monarch of the climes, 
And those who dwell in them ! for near or far, 
Our inborn Spirits have a tint of thee, 
Even as our outward aspects ; — thou dost rise, 
And shine and set in Glory. Fare thee well ! 
I ne'er shall see thee more. As my first glance 
Of Love and Wonder was for thee, then take 
My latest look. 

Cf)e i&tttt- — Southey. 
J MARVEL not, Sun ! that unto thee 
In adoration Man should bow the knee, 
And pour the prayer of mingled Awe and Love; 
For like a God thou art, and on thy way 
Of Glory sheddcst with benignant ray, 

Beauty, and Life, and Joyance from above. 

2H)e Sun. — Cowley. 

A LL the World's bravery that delights our eyes, 
Is but thy several liveries ; 
Thou the rich dye on them bestow'st, 
Thy nimble Pencil paints this landscape as thou go'st 

Superiority _ Helvetius. 
'TO be loved we should merit but little Esteem ; all Superiority 
attracts awe and aversion. 

Superstition.— Coiton. 

HPHE less we know as to things that can be done, the less skep- 
tical are we as to things that cannot. Hence it is that Sailors 
and Gamblers, though not over remarkable for their devotion, are 
even proverbial for their Superstition ; the solution of this phe- 
nomenon is, that both these descriptions of men have so much to 
do with things beyond all possibility of being reduced either to 
rule, or to reason, — the Winds and the Waves, — and the decisions 
of the Dice-Box. 

IStinQ Sutetg. — Sir Walter Raleigh. 
TF any desire thee to be his Surety, give him a part of what thou 
hast to spare; if he press thee farther, he is not thy Friend at 
all, for Friendship rather chooseth harm to itself, than offereth it. 


If thou be bound for a stranger, thou art a fool; if for a merchant, 
thou puttest thy estate to learn to swim; if for a churchman, he 
hath no inheritance ; if for a Lawyer, he will find an evasion 
by a syllable or word to abuse thee; if for a poor man, thou must 
pay it thyself; if for a rich man, he needs not: therefore from 
Suretyship, as from a manslayer or enchanter, bless thyself; for 
the best profit and return will be this — that if thou force him for 
whom thou art bound, to pay it himself, he will become thy Enemy ; 
if thou use to pay it thyself, thou wilt become a Beggar 

Suspicion. — Spenser. 
TTE lowrd on her with daungerous eye-glaunce, 

Shewing his Nature in his countenaunce ; 
His rolling Eies did never rest in place, 

But walkte each where for feare of hid mischaunce, 
Holding a lattis still before his Face, 
Through which he still did peep as forward he did pace. 

Stoearing. —Hierocies. 

"PROM a common custom of Swearing, men easily slide into 
Perjury; therefore if thou wouldst not be perjured, do not use 
to swear. 

WtyZ SBCOpfjant — SkaJcspeare. 
~Y"OU are meek and humble-mouth'd; 

You sign your place and calling, in full seeming, 
With Meekness and Humility : but your Heart 
Is cramm'd with Arrogancy, Spleen, and Pride. 
You have, by fortune, 

Gone slightly o'er low steps; and now are mounted, 
Where powers are your retainers : and your words, 
Domestics to you, serve your will, as't please 
Yourself pronounce their office. 

SptpatJS. —-Byron. 
T1THAT gem hath dropp'd and sparkles o'er his chain ? 

The Tear most sacred, shed for others' pain, 
That starts at once — bright — pure — from Pity's mine, 
Already polish'd by the Hand Divine. 

i&guipatfjg. —Darwin. 
]V"0 radiant pearl, which crested Fortune wears, 

No gem, that twinkling hangs from Beauty's ears; 
Not the bright stars, which Night's blue arch adorn; 
Nor rising Sun, that gilds the vernal Morn; 
Shine with such lustre as the Tear that flows 
Down Virtue's manly cheek for others' Woes. 


Sgropatf)!). — Thomson. 

The generous Heart 
Should scorn a Pleasure which gives others Pain. 


"^ATURE has cast me in so soft a mould, 

That but to hear a story feign' d for Pleasure, 
Of some sad Lover's death, moistens my Eyes, 
And robs me of my Manhood. 

Sgmpatfjg- _ Virgil. 
P^"OT being untutored in Suffering, I learn to pity those in Af- 

SlOTatflg.— Steele. 

'THERE is a kind of Sympathy in Souls, that fits them for each 
other ; and we may be assured when we see two persons 
engaged in the warmths of a mutual Affection, that there are 
certain qualities in both their minds which bear a resemblance to 
one another. A generous and constant passion in an agreeable 
Lover, where there is not too great a disparity in other circum- 
stances, is the greatest Blessing that can befall the person beloved, 
and if overlooked in one, may perhaps never be found in another. 

Sgtttpattlg. — Sterne. 
TN benevolent natures the impulse to Pity is so sudden, that like 
instruments of Music which obey the touch — the objects which 
are fitted to excite such impressions work so instantaneous an 
effect, that you would think the Will was scarce concerned, and 
that the Mind was altogether passive in the Sympathy which her 
own goodness has excited. 

SgWpatfjg, — Shakspeare. 
ONE touch of Nature makes the whole world kin — 

That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds, 
Though they are made and moulded of things past; 
And give to Dust, that is a little gilt, 
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. 

Jkptpatjg. — Jean Paul 
'THERE are Eyes which need only to look up, to touch every 
chord of a breast choked by the stifling atmosphere of stiff and 
stagnant Society, and to call forth tones which might become the 
accompanying music of a Life. This gentle transfusion of Mind 
into Mind is the secret of Sympathy. It is never understood, but 
ever felt ; and where it is allowed to exert its power, it fills and 
extends intellectual Life far beyond the measure of ordinary con- 


iE-PmpatJ)!)- — Horace. 
r rHE Human Countenance smiles on those who smile, and weeps 
with those who weep. 

Cfje icgrtn, — Thomson. 
"YTTHEN on his heart the torrent-softness pours, 

Then Wisdom prostrate lies, and fading fame 
Dissolves in air away; while the fond soul, 
Wrapt in gay visions of unreal Bliss, 
Still paints the illusive form ; the kindling grace; 
The enticing Smile ; the modest-seeming eye, 
Beneath whose beauteous beams, belying Heaven, 
Lurk searchless-cunning, Cruelty, and Death, 
And still, false warbling in his cheated ear, 
Her syren voice, enchanting, draws him on 
To guileful shores, and meads of fatal Joy. 

CaCt. — Anon. 
A LITTLE Management may often evade Resistance, which a 
vast force might vainly strive to overcome. 

CaCt. — Colton. 
"MEVER join with your Friend when he abuses his Horse or his 
Wife, unless the one is about to be sold, and the other to be 

CaCt. _ Colton. 
/TJ.RAXT graciously what you cannot refuse safely, and conciliate 
those you cannot conquer. 

Calent. — Colton. 

"\ TEN may have the gifts both of Talent and of Wit, but unless 
they have also Prudence and Judgment to dictate the when, 
the where, and the how those gifts are to be exerted, the possessors 
of them will be doomed to conquer only where nothing is to be 
gained, but to be defeated where every thing is to be lost ; they 
will be outdone by men of less brilliant, but more convertible 
Qualifications, and whose strength, in one point, is not counter- 
balanced by any disproportion in another. 

Zd If M. — Colton. 
J)ISAPPOIXTED men, who think that they have Talents, and 
who hint that their Talents have not been properly rewarded, 
usually finish their career by writing their own History; but in 
detailing their Misfortunes, they only let us into the secret of their 
Mistakes; and, in accusing their patrons of Blindness, make it 
appear that they ought rather to have accused them of Sagacity, 
since it would seem that they saw too much, rather than too little ; 
namely, that second-rate performances were too often made the 
foundation for first-rate pretensions. 


&U53tOCraCg Of Caleitt. — Thomson. 

Whoe'er amidst the sons 
Of Reason, Valour, Liberty, and Virtue, 
Displays distinguish'd Merit, is a Noble 
Of Nature's own creating. Such have risen, 
Sprung from the dust ; or where had been our honours ? 

Uatettt Calettt — La Rochefoucauld. 
TT seems that Nature has concealed at the bottom of our minds 
Talents and Abilities of which we are not aware. The Passions 
alone have the privilege of bringing them to light, and of giving 
us sometimes views more certain and more perfect than Art could 
possibly produce. 

2Talfcm0. — Sir Walter Raleigh. 
CPEAKING much is a sign of Vanity j for he that is lavish in 
Words, is a Niggard in Deed. 

Calfemg. — Cowper. 

"Y\TORDS learn'd by rote, a Parrot may rehearse, 

But talking is not always to converse ; 
Not more distinct from Harmony divine, 
The constant creaking of a Country Sign. 

Catftmg* — Young. 
A DEARTH of words a woman need not fear ; 

But 'tis a task indeed to learn — to hear. 
In that the skill of Conversation lies ) 
That shows or makes you both polite and wise. 

Calfttng,— Byron. 
"RUT light and airy, stood on the alert, 

And shone in the best part of Dialogue. 
By humouring always what they might assert, 

And listening to the topics most in vogue ; 
Now grave, now gay, but never dull or pert ; 

And smiling but in secret — cunning rogue ! 
He ne'er presumed to make an Error clearer, — 
In short, there never was a better Hearer. 

Caifctttg, — Sir Walter Raleigh. 
XTE that cannot refrain from much speaking, is like a City without 
Walls, and less pains in the world a man cannot take, than to 
hold his tongue : therefore if thou observest this rule in all assem- 
blies, thou shalt seldom err: restrain thy Choler, hearken much, 
and speak little ; for the Tongue is the instrument of the greatest 
Good and greatest Evil that is done in the world. 


Calking. —Socrates. 
QUCH as thy Words are, such will thy Affections be esteemed ; 
and such will thy Deeds as thy Affections, and such thy Life 
as thy Deeds. 

Calking. — Young. 
"VALINE may indeed excite the meekest Dame ; 

But keen Xantippe, scorning borrow'd flame, 
Can vent her thunders, and her lightnings play, 
O'er cooling Gruel, and composing Tea. 

Calktng. — Roscommon. 
What you keep by you, you may change and mend; 
But Words once spoken can never be recall'd. 

QLalkiUQ. — Lavater. 
TTE who seldom speaks, and with one calm well-timed word can 
strike dumb the Loquacious, is a Genius or a Hero. 

Calking. — Shaftesbunj. 
'THEY who are great Talkers in company, have never been any 
Talkers by themselves, nor used to private discussions of our 
home Regimen. 

Calfetng. — Sir Roger V Estrange. 
'THERE are braying Men in the World as well as braying Asses ; 
for, what's loud and senseless Talking and Swearing, any other 
than Braying. 

Calking. — From the French. 
A WISE Man reflects before he speaks ; a Fool speaks, and then 
reflects on what he has uttered. 

Calking. — Seiden. 

T^TORDS must be fitted to a Man's mouth : 'twas well said of 
the fellow that was to make a speech for my Lord Mayor, 
when he desired to take Measure of his Lordship's Mouth. 

Caifcmg.— Plutarch. 

TF you light upon an impertinent Talker, that sticks to you like 

a Bur, to the disappointment of your important occasions, deal 

freely with him, break off the Discourse, and pursue your Business. 

Calking. — Montesquieu. 
'"THOSE who have few affairs to attend to, are great Speakers. 
The less Men think, the more they talk. 

Calking. — Terence. 
TE who indulges in Liberty of Speech, will hear things in return 
which he will not like. 


QLalkinQ. — Coiton. 

TT has been well observed, that the Tongue discovers the state of 
the mind, no less than that of the body ; but, in either case, 
before the Philosopher or the Physician can judge, the patient 
must open his mouth. Some men envelop themselves in such an 
impenetrable cloak of Silence, that the Tongue will afford us no 
symptoms of the temperament of the mind. Such Taciturnity, 
indeed, is wise if they are fools, but foolish if they are wise ; and 
the only method to form a Judgment of these mutes, is narrowly 
to observe when, where, and how they smile. 

Calfemg, — Plutarch. 
TF any man think it -a small matter, or of mean concernment, to 
bridle his Tongue, he is much mistaken ; for it is a point to be 
silent, when occasion requires ; and better than to speak, though 
never so well. 

Calfemg. — Socrates. 
'THE Tongue of a fool is the key of his Counsel, which, in a Wise 
Man, Wisdom hath in keeping. 

CaSte, — La Rochefoucauld. 
Men more easily renounce their Interests than their Tastes. 

QimtZ.— Burke. 
TT is for the most part in our skill in Manners, and in the obser- 
vances of time and place and of Decency in general, that what 
is called Taste by way of distinction consists ; and which is in 
reality no other than a more refined Judgment. * * * The cause 
of a wrong Taste is a defect of Judgment. 

Ca0te. — La Bruyere. 
'TALENT, Taste, Wit, G-ood Sense, are very different things, 
but by no means incompatible. Between Good Sense and 
Good Taste there exists the same difference as between Cause and 
Effect, and between Wit and Talent there is the same proportion 
as between a whole and its part. 

Cagte. — Greville. 
1VTAY not Taste be compared to that exquisite sense of the Bee. 
which instantly discovers and extracts the Quintessence of 
every Flower, and disregards all the rest of it ? 

CaSte. — Shenstone. 
FT seems with Wit and Good-nature, "Utrum horum mavis ac- 
cipe." Taste and Good-nature are universally connected. 


QiaXatWn. — Shakspeare. 
T\TE must not rend our Subjects from our laws, 

And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each ! 
A trembling Contribution ! — why, we take 
From every tree, lop, bark, and part o' the timber; 
And though we leave it with a Root, thus hack'd, 
The Air will drink the Sap. 

IBiUtt CaXattOn. — Shakspeare. 

These exactions 
Most pestilent to th' Hearing j and, to bear 'era, 
The back is sacrifice to th' load : This makes bold mouths : 
Tongues spit their Duties out, and cold Hearts freeze 
Allegiance in them ; All their. curses now 
Live where their Prayers did ; and it's come to pass, 
That tractable Obedience is a slave 
To each incensed will. 

Direct CaxattOlT. — Shakspeare. 
TT doth appear : for, upon these Taxations, 

The clothiers all, not able to maintain 
The many to them 'longing, have put off 
The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, 
Unfit for other Life, compell'd by hunger, 
And lack of other means, in desperate manner 
Daring the event to the Teeth, are all in uproar, 
And Danger serves among them. 

Cempet. — Shakspeare. 
'THAT which combined us was most great, and let not 

A leaner Action rend us. What's amiss, 
May it be gently heard : When we debate 
Our trivial difference loud, we do commit 
Murder in healing Wounds : Then, 
Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms, 
Nor curstness grow to the matter. 

Cetltpei;. — Shakspeare. 
TITHY should a Man, whose Blood is warm within, 

Sit like his Grandsire cut in Alabaster ? 
Sleep, when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice 
By being peevish ? 

Cempetance Burton. 

'J'EMPERANCE is a bridle of gold : he who uses it rightly, is 
more like a God than a Man j the English, who are the most 
subject, of all other people, to Melancholy, are, in general, excel- 
lent feeders. 



Cempcranc c. — Hesiod. 

JTOOLS ! not to know how far a humble lot 

Exceeds abundance by Injustice got; 
How Health and Temperance bless the rustic swain, 
While Luxury destroys her pamper' d train. 

Cempecancc. — ciaudian. 

J^JEN live best on moderate means: Nature has dispensed to 
all men wherewithal to be happy, if Mankind did but under- 
stand how to use her gifts. 

{[Temperance. — Fuller. 

l^T ODE RATION is the silken string running through the pearl- 
chain of all Virtues. 

temperance. — Socrates. 
r rHERE is no difference between Knowledge and Temperance; 
for he who knows what is good and embraces it, who knows 
what is bad and avoids it, is learned and temperate. But they 
who know very well what ought to be done, and yet do quite 
otherwise, are ignorant and stupid. 

Cempetance.— Sir Walter Raleigh. 
T7XCEPT thou desire to hasten thine end, take this for a general 
rule, that thou never add any artificial Heat to thy body by 
Wine or Spice, until thou find that time hath decayed thy natural 
heat; and the sooner thou beginnest to help Nature, the sooner 
she will forsake thee, and leave thee to trust altogether to Art. 

Cfje CempcSt.— Campbell. 
TTE comes ! dread Brama shakes the sunless sky 

With murmuring Wrath, and thunders from on high ! 
Heaven's fiery Horse, beneath his warrior form, 
Paws the light clouds, and gallops on the Storm ! 
Wide waves his flickering Sword ; his bright arms glow 
Like Summer Suns, and light the World below ! 
Earth, and her trembling isles in Ocean's bed, 
Are shook ; and Nature rocks beneath his tread ! 

2Tf)e CempeSt. — Byron. 

'THE sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Night, 
And Storm, and Darkness, ye are wondrous strong, 

Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light 
Of a dark eye in Woman ! Far along, 
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among 

Leaps the live Thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, 
But every mountain now hath found a tongue, 

And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, 

Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud ! 


And this is in the night : — Most glorious Night ! 

Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be 
A sharer in thy fierce and far Delight, — 

A portion of the Tempest and of thee ! 

How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea, 
And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! 

And now again 'tis black, — and now, the glee 
Of Jthe loud Hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, 
As if they did rejoice o'er a young Earthquake's birth. 

Cf)e CempeSt.— Byron. 
TTARK, hark ! deep sounds, and deeper still, 
Are howling from the Mountain's bosom : 
There's not a breath of Wind upon the Hill, 

Yet quivers every Leaf, and drops each Blossom : 
Earth groans as if beneath a heavy Load. 

Ci)e CempeSt. — Spenser. 
gUDDEINE they see from midst of all the maine 

The surging waters like a Mountaine rise, 
And the great Sea, puft up with proud Disdaine, 
To swell above the measure of his guise, 
As threatning to devoure all that his Powre despise. 

&f)e CempcSt.— Joanna Baillie. 
'THE Night grows wondrous dark : deep-swelling gusts 

And sultry stillness take the rule by turn, 
Whilst o'er our heads the black and heavy Clouds 
Roll slowly on. This surely bodes a Storm. 

Wqz Cempest. — Milton. 

I heard the wrack 
As Earth and Sky would mingle ; but myself 
Was distant; and these flaws, though Mortals fear them 
As dang'rous to the pillar'd frame of Heaven, 
Or to the Earth's dark basis underneath, 
Are to the main as inconsiderable, 
And harmless, if not wholesome, as a sneeze 
To Man. 

CempeSt at £ea.— Thomson. 
THEN issues forth the Storm with sudden burst, 

And hurls the whole precipitated air 
Down, in a torrent. On the passive main 
Descends the Ethereal force, and with strong gust 
Turns from its bottom the discolour'd deep. 
Thro' the black Night that sits immense around, 
Lash'd into foam, the fierce contending brine, 
Seems o'er a thousand raging Waves to burn. 



^Temptation. — Spenser. 

TYUT all in vaine : no Fort can be so strong, 
Ne fleshly Brest can armed be so sownd, 

But will at last be wonne with battrie long, 
Or unawares at disadvantage fownd : 
Nothing is sure that growes on earthly grownd : 

And who most trustes in Arme of fleshly might, 
And boastes in Beautie's chaine not to be bownd, 

Doth soonest fall in disaventrous fight, 

And yeeldes his captive neck to Victour's most despight. 

Cemptattcm. — Shakspeare. 

/ 'Tis one thing to be tempted, 
Another thing to fall.^ 

CemptattOn. — Thomson. 

Ah then, ye Fair ! 
Be greatly cautious of your sliding Hearts : 
Dare not the infectious Sigh ; the pleading look, 
Downcast, and low, in meek submission drest, 
But full of Guile. Let not the serpent Tongue, 
Prompt to deceive, with adulation smooth, 
Gain on your purposed will. Nor in the bower, 
Where woodbines flaunt, and roses shed a couch, 
While Evening draws her crimson curtains round, 
Trust your soft minutes with betraying Man. 

Cemptatton.— Pope. 

HTHE devil was piqued such Saintship to behold, 

And long'd to tempt him, like good Job of old ; 
But Satan now is wiser than of yore, 
And tempts by making rich, not making poor. 

^Temptation. —Johnson. 
HTO resist Temptation once is not a sufficient proof of Honesty. 
If a servant, indeed, were to resist the continued temptation of 
Silver lying in a window, as some people let it lie, when he is sure 
his master does not know how much there is of it, he would give 
a strong proof of Honesty. But this is a proof to which you have 
no right to put a man. You know, humanly speaking, there is a 
certain degree of Temptation which will overcome any Virtue. Now, 
in so far as you approach Temptation to a man, you do him an in- 
and, if he is overcome, you share his Guilt. 

^Temptation. — Shakspeare. 
Devils soonest tempt, resembling Spirits of Light. 

^Temptation. — From the Latin. 
Opportunity makes the Thief. 


CemptattOlT. — Shdkspeare. 
V IE in the lap of Sin, and not mean harm ? 

It is hypocrisy against the Devil : 
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so, 
The devil their Virtue tempts, and they tempt Heaven. 

Cf)0Orp. — Shalspeare. 
Thoughts are but Dreams till their effects be tried. 

Cijmgs of tf)e SKaorlfc. — Coiton. 

TT would be most lamentable if the good things of this World 
were rendered either more valuable or more lasting ; for, despi- 
cable as they already are, too many are found eager to purchase 
them, even at the price of their Souls ! 

^Tfjinfterg;. — Dugald Stewart. 
'THERE are very few original Thinkers in the world, or ever have 
been ; the greatest part of those who are called Philosophers, 
have adopted the opinions of some who went before them 

Cfnnfttng. — Ocero. 

TITHATEVER that be, which thinks, which understands, which 
wills, which acts, it is something celestial and Divine; and, 
upon that account, must necessarily be eternal. 

QlilinbinQ. — Lavater. 
'THINKERS are scarce as Gold : but he, whose thoughts embrace 
all his subject, pursues it uninterrupted and fearless of conse- 
quences, is a Diamond of enormous size. 

CJKlritmg. — Cotton. 

'THOSE who have finished by making all others think with them, 
have usually been those who began by daring to think with 

Cf) tnftmg.— Johnson. 
"V/TANKIND have a great aversion to intellectual Labour; but 
even supposing Knowledge to be easily attainable, more people 
would be content to be ignorant than would take even a little 
trouble to acquire it. 

Cfjttgt.— Byron. 

Till taught by pain, 
Men really know not what good Water's worth. 
If you had been in Turkey or in Spain, 

Or with a famish'd boat's-crew had your berth, 
Or in the Desert heard the camel's bell, 
You'd wish yourself where Truth is — in a well. 


CJjOUgf)t0 atttl £^Cltft0. — Hare. 
TT is much easier to think right without doing right, than to do 
right without thinking right. Just Thoughts may, and wofully 
often do fail of producing just Deeds; but just Deeds are sure to 
beget just Thoughts. For when the Heart is pure and straight, 
there is hardly any thing which can mislead the Understanding in 
matters of immediate personal concernment. But the clearest Un- 
derstanding can do little in purifying an impure Heart, the strongest 
little in straightening a crooked one. You cannot reason or talk 
an Augean stable into cleanliness. A single day's work would 
make more progress in such a task than a Century's words. 

f&XVUt. — Shakspeare. 
Merry Larks are ploughman's Clocks. 

^Ttnte. — Shakspeare. 
Time, whose million'd accidents 
Creep in 'twixt Vows, and change decrees of Kings, 
Tan sacred Beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, 

Divert strong minds to the course of altering things. 

<JTtltte» — Shakspeare. 
Time. I, — that please some, try all; both Joy and Terror, 
Of Good and Bad ; that make, and unfold, Error. 

^LiXttt* — Joanna Baillie. 
Still on it creeps, 
Each little moment at another's heels, 
Till Hours, Days, Years, and Ages are made up 
Of such small parts as these, and men look back, 
Worn and bewilder'd, wond'ring how it is. 
Thou trav'llest like a Ship in the wide ocean, 
Which hath no bounding shore to mark its progress. 

Ctttte, — Clarendon. 
TT is no wonder that when we are prodigal of nothing else, when 
we are over-thrifty of many things which we may well spare, 
we are very prodigal of our Time, which is the only precious Jewel 
of which we cannot be too thrifty, because we look upon it as 
nothing worth, and that makes us not care how we spend it. The 
Labouring Man and the Artificer knows what every hour of his 
time is worth, what it will yield him, and parts not with it, but 
for the full value : they are only noblemen and gentlemen, who 
should know best how to use it, that think it only fit to be cast 
away; and their not knowing how to set a true value upon this, is 
the true cause of the wrong estimate they make of all other things. 


'THERE is a Temple in ruin stands, 

Fashion'd by long-forgotten hands ; 
Two or three Columns, and many a stone, 
Marble and Granite, with grass o'ergrown ! 
Out upon Time ! it will leave no more 
Of the things to come than the things before ! 
Out upon Time ! who for ever will leave 
But enough of the Past for the Future to grieve 
O'er that which hath been, and o'er that which must be : 
What we have seen, our sons shall see ; 
Remnants of things that have pass'd away, 
Fragments of Stone, rear'd by Creatures of Clay ! 

Cime.— Byron. 
AND there they stand, as stands a lofty Mind, 

Worn, but unstooping to the baser Crowd, 
All tenantless, save to the crannying Wind, 
Or holding dark communion with the Cloud. 

$Ttme. — Shakspeare. 

The End crowns all ; 
And that old common arbitrator, Time, 
Will one day end it. 

Ctme. — Colton. 
HTIME is the most subtle yet the most insatiable of Depredators, 
and by appearing to take nothing, is permitted to take all ; 
nor can it be satisfied, until it has stolen the World from us, and 
us from the World. It constantly flies, yet overcomes all things 
by flight ; and although it is the present ally, it will be the future 
conqueror of Death. Time, the cradle of Hope, but the grave of 
Ambition, is the stern corrector of Fools, but the salutary coun- 
sellor of the Wise, bringing all they dread to the one, and all they 
desire to the other ; but like Cassandra, it warns us with a voice 
that even the sagest discredit too long, and the silliest believe too 
late. Wisdom walks before it, Opportunity with it, and Repentance 
behind it ; he that has made it his friend, will have little to fear 
from his Enemies, but he that has made it his enemy, will have 
little to hope from his Friends. 

3T tltt e . — Sh a k spear e. 
We see which way the stream of Time doth run, 
And are enforced from our most quiet sphere 
By the rough torrent of Occasion. 


Cttne. — Cowper. 
Time as he passes us, has a Dove's wing, 
Unsoil'd and swift, and of a silken sound. 

Ctttte. _ Young. 
'THE bell strikes one. We take no note of Time, 

But from its loss. To give it then a tongue, 
Is wise in man. As if an Angel spoke, 
I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, 
It is the knell of my departed hours : 
Where are they ? With the Years beyond the Flood 
It is the signal that demands dispatch : 
How much is to be done ! 

Ctttie* — Cicero. 
'TIME destroys the speculations of Man, but it confirms the judg 
ment of Nature. 

Cittie, — Shakspeare. 
Time is the old Justice, that examines all offenders. 

Ctme.— Lavater. 
The great rule of moral conduct is, next to God, to respect Time 

Ctttte. — Shakspeare. 
What's past, and what's to come, is strew'd with husks 
The formless ruin of Oblivion. 

Ctltte. — Shakspeare. 
HTIME travels in divers paces with divers persons : I'll tell you 
who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time 
gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. He trots hard with 
a young maid, between the contract of her Marriage and the day 
it is solemnized: if the interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is 
so hard, that it seems the length of seven years. — He ambles with 
a Priest that lacks Latin, and a Rich Man that hath not the Gout; 
for the one sleeps easily, because he cannot study ; and the other 
lives merrily, because he feels no pain : the one lacking the burden 
of lean and wasteful learning; the other knowing no burden of 
heavy tedious penury : These time ambles withal. — He gallops with 
a Thief to the gallows : for though he go as softly as foot can fall, 
he thinks himself too soon there. — He stays still with Lawyers in 
the vacation ; for they sleep between term and term, and then they 
perceive not how Time moves. 

Qlixnt. — Young. 
VOUTH is not rich in Time, it may be poor ; 
Part with it as with Money, sparing; pay 
No moment, but in purchase of its worth; 
And what it's worth, ask Death-beds ; they can tell. 


Chile. — Shahspeare. 

It is ten o'clock : 
Thus may we see, how the world wags : 
'Tis but an hour ago, since it was Nine ; 
And after an hour more, 'twill be Eleven; 
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, 
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot, 
And thereby hangs a Tale. 

Ctme. — Steele. 
TT is notorious to Philosophers, that Joy and Grief can hasten 
and delay Time. Locke is of opinion, that a man in great 
Misery may so far lose his measure, as to think a Minute an Hour; 
or in Joy make an Hour a Minute. 

Ctme.— Byron. 
"WHERE is the World," cries Young, at eighty? "Where 

The World in which a man was born I" Alas ! 
Where is the World of eight years past ? 'Twas there — 

I look for it — 'tis gone, a Globe of glass ! 
Crack'd, shiver'd, vanish'd, scarcely gazed on ere 

A silent change dissolves the glittering mass. 
Statesmen, Chiefs, Orators, Queens, Patriots, Kings, 
And Dandies, all are gone on the wind's wings. 

Chile. — Seneca. 
T'HE velocity with which Time flies is infinite, as is most apparent 
to those who look back. 

&imt.— Blair. 

Time hurries on 
With a resistless, unremitting Stream* 
Yet treads more soft than e'er did midnight Thief, 
That slides his hand under the Miser's pillow, 
And carries off his Prize. 

Chile. — Byron. 

There is given 
Unto the things of Earth, which time hath bent, 
A spirit's feeling, and where he hath leant 
His hand, but broke his Scythe, there is a power 
And magic. 

Chile. — Shahspeare. 
J^IKE as the waves make toward the pebbled shore, 

So do our Minutes hasten to their end ; 
Each changing place with that which goes before : 
In sequent Toil all forward do contend. 



CtmC — Dyer. 

now the Raven's bleak abode ; 
'Tis now the apartment of the Toad ; 
And there the Fox securely feeds ; 
And there the poisonous Adder breeds, 
Conceal' d in ruins, moss, and weeds ; 
While, ever and anon, there falls 
Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls. 
Yet Time has seen, which lifts the low, 
And level lays the lofty brow, 
Has seen the broken Pile complete, 
Big with the Vanity of State ; 
But transient is the smile of Fate ! 
A little rule, a little sway, 
A Sun-beam in a winter's day, 
Is all the proud and mighty have 
Between the Cradle and the Grave. 

^Limt. — Horace. 
It flows, and it will flow uninterruptedly through every Age. 

Cf)e fflirOttg f4me. — Zimmerman. 
'THE Quarter of an Hour before Dinner is the worst suitors can 

Ctttte. — ShaJcspeare. 
J^[IS-SHAPEN Time, copesmate of ugly Night, 

Swift subtle post, carrier of grisly Care ; 
Eater of Youth, false slave to false delight, 

Base watch of Woes, Sin's pack-horse, Virtue's snare ; 

Thou nursest all, and murderest all, that are. 
Time's glory is to calm contending Kings; 

To unmask Falsehood, and bring Truth to light; 
To stamp the seal of Time on aged things ; 

To wake the Morn, and centinel the Night; 

To wrong the Wronger, till he render Right ; 
To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours, 
And smear with dust their glittering golden Towers : 

To fill with worm-holes stately monuments ; 
To feed Oblivion with decay of things ; 

To blot old Books, and alter their contents ; 
To pluck the quills from ancient raven's wings ; 
To dry the old Oak's sap, and cherish springs ; 
To spoil antiquities of hammer'd steel, 
And turn the giddy round of Fortune's wheel : 


To show the beldame daughters of her daughter; 

To make the child a man, the man a child ; 
To slay the Tiger, that doth live by slaughter ; 

To tame the Unicorn, and Lion wild ; 

To mock the subtle, in themselves beguiled; 
To cheer the ploughman with increaseful crops, 
And waste huge Stones with little Water-drops. 

Why work'st thou Mischief in thy "pilgrimage, 
Unless thou could' st return to make amends? 

One poor retiring minute in an age, 
Would purchase thee a thousand thousand friends ; 
Lending him Wit, that to bad debtors lends. 

Ctme. — Mason. 
As every thread of Gold is valuable, so is every minute of Time. 

Cttlte. — Shakspeare. 
Minutes, Hours, Days, Weeks, and Years, 
Pass'd over to the end they were created, 
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet Grave. 

QLiWXt. — Franklin. 
TF Time be of all things the most precious, wasting Time must be 
the greatest prodigality, since lost Time is never found again ; 
and what we call Time enough always proves little enough. Let 
us then up and be doing, and doing to the purpose ; so by diligence 
shall we do more with less perplexity. Sloth makes all things diffi- 
cult, but Industry all easy; and he that riseth late must trot all 
day, and shall scarce overtake his business at night ; while Laziness 
travels so slowly, that Poverty soon overtakes him. Drive thy busi- 
ness, let not that drive thee ; and early to bed, and early to rise, 
makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. 

{EnmttJttp, — Shakspeare. 
CtO, prick thy Face, and over-red thy Fear, 
^ Thou lily-liver'd Boy. What Soldiers, Patch ? 
Death of thy Soul ! Those linen cheeks of thine 
Are counsellors to Fear. 

&f)e 2Ttteo icptrit— Joanna Baillie. 
"pULL many a Storm on this gray head has beat; 

And now, on my high station do I stand, 
Like the tired Watchman in his air-rock' d tower, 
Who looketh for the hour of his Release. 
I'm sick of worldly broils, and fain would rest 
With those who war no more 


Cities. — La Rochefoucauld. 
PJIGH Titles debase, instead of elevating, those who know not 
how to support them. 

Cofcacco,— Tom. 

A LL experienced people will tell you that the habit of using 
Tobacco in any shape will soon render you emsfciated and 
consumptive, your Nerves shattered, your spirits low and moody, 
your Throat dry and demanding stimulating drinks. 

l&eltgtous Coletattcm. — story. 

'THERE is not a truth to be gathered from history more certain, 
or more momentous, than this : that civil liberty cannot long be 
separated from religious liberty without danger, and ultimately with- 
out destruction to both. Wherever religious liberty exists, it will, 
tirst or last, bring in and establish political liberty. Wherever it is 
suppressed, the church establishment will, first or last, become the 
engine of despotism, and overthrow, unless it be itself overthrown, 
every vestige of political right. How it is possible to imagine that 
a religion breathing the spirit of mercy and benevolence, teaching 
the forgiveness of injuries, the exercise of charity, and the return 
of good for evil ) how it is possible, I say, for such a religion to be 
so perverted as to breathe the spirit of slaughter and persecution, 
of discord and vengeance, for differences of opinion, is a most unac- 
countable and extraordinary moral phenomenon. Still more ex- 
traordinary, that it should be the doctrine, not of base and wicked 
men merely, seeking to cover up their own misdeeds, but of good 
men, seeking the way of salvation with uprightness of heart and 
purpose. It affords a melancholy proof of the infirmity of human 
judgment, and teaches a lesson of humility from which spiritual 
pride may learn meekness, and spiritual zeal a moderating wisdom 

Cc^morroto. — Cotton. 

To-morrow, didst thou say ? 
Methought I heard Horatio say, To-Morrow ! 
Go to ; — I will not hear of it — To-morrow ! 
'Tis a sharper who stakes his penury 
Against thy plenty — who takes thy ready cash, 
And pays thee nought but Wishes, Hopes, and Promises, 
The currency of idiots. Injurious bankrupt, 
That gulls the easy creditor ! To-morrow ! 
It is a period nowhere to be found 
In all the hoary registers of Time, 
Unless perchance in the fool's calendar. 
Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society 


With those that own it. No, my Horatio, 
'Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its father : 
Wrought on such stuff as dreams are; and baseless 
As the fantastic visions of the Evening. 

Co^mO rm to.— Young. 
TN human Hearts what bolder thought can rise, 

Than man's presumption on To-morrow's dawn ? 
Where is To-morrow ? In another world. 
For numbers this is certain : the reverse 
Is sure to none; and yet on this "perhaps," 
This "peradventure," infamous for lies, 
As on a rock of Adamant, we build 
Our mountain Hopes ; spin out eternal schemes, 
As we the Fatal Sisters could out-spin, 
And, big with Life's futurities, expire. 

Co^mOCroto. — Johnson. 
Can that hoary Wisdom 
Borne down with years, still doat upon To-morrow ? 
That fatal Mistress of the young, the lazy, 
The coward, and the fool, condernn'd to lose 
An useless Life in wishing for To-morrow, 
To gaze with longing eyes upon To-morrow, 
Till interposing Death destroys the prospect ! 
Strange ! that this general fraud from day to day 
Should fill the world with wretches undetected. 
The Soldier lab'ring thro' a winter's march, 
Still sees To-morrow dress'd in robes of triumph; 
Still to the Lover's long-expecting arms, 
To-morrow brings the visionary bride ; 
But thou, too old to bear another cheat, 
Learn, that the Present Hour alone is Man's. 

Self^Corment. — From the Latin. 
\TOTHINGr more is wanting to render a man miserable, than that 
he should fancy he is so. 

Cranqutllttg. — Jean Paul. 
HEN the Heart of man is serene and tranquil, he wants to 
enjoy nothing but himself; every movement — even corporeal 
movement — shakes the brimming Nectar cup too rudely. 

labelling. — Lord Lyttelton. 
"VTE other cares in other climes engage, 

Cares that become my birth, and suit my age; 
In various Knowledge to improve my youth, 
And conquer Prejudice, worst foe to Truth; 



By foreign arts, domestic faults to mend. 
Enlarge my notions and my views extend ; 
The useful science of the World to know, - 
Which books can never teach, or pedants show. 

Ctegpa&SL — Gieero. 

T7VERY man should submit to his own Grievances, rather than 
trespass on the conveniences or comforts of his Neighbour. 

& CrouWcfi g&ixit.— Joanna Baillie. 
C\ NIGrHT, when good men rest, and infants sleep ! 

Thou art to me no season of Repose, 
But a fear'd time of waking more intense, 
Of Life more keen, of Misery more palpable. 

CrUSttltg tO OtjetS. — Sir. W. Temple. 
A MAN that only translates, shall never be a Poet; nor a Painter 
that only copies; nor a Swimmer that swims always with 
bladders : so people that trust wholly to others' Charity, and with- 
out Industry of their own, will always be poor. 

QlXUfy.— Greville. 
r rHE mind's eye is perhaps no better fitted for the full radiance 
of Truth, than is the body's for that of the Sun. 

KtUtfj.— CoIton. 
HPHE interests of Society often render it expedient not to utter 
the whole Truth, the interests of Science never ; for in this field 
we have much more to fear from the deficiency of Truth, than from 
its abundance. 

CtUtj). — Terence. 
Obsequiousness begets friends ; Truth, hatred. 

Crtttj).— Paley. 
F HAVE seldom known any one who deserted Truth in trifles, 
that could be trusted in matters of Importance. 

dllt f) . — Johnson. 

A CCUSTOM your children to a strict attention to Truth, even 

in the most minute particulars. If a thing happened at one 

window, and they, when relating it, say that it happened at another, 

do not let it pass, but instantly check them : you do not know 

where deviations from Truth will end. 

CtUtj)- — Shaftesbury. 
r FHE most natural beauty in the world is Honesty and moral 
Truth. For all Beauty is Truth. True Features make the 
beauty of a Face; and true proportions the beauty of Architecture : 
us true Measures that of Harmony and Music. 


CtUt j. — From the Latin. 
There is no doctrine so false as not to contain in it some Truth 

ffttttf).— Phcedrus. 

HPO believe is dangerous, to be unbelieving is equally so ; the 
Truth therefore should be diligently sought after, lest that a 
foolish opinion should lead you to pronounce an unsound judg- 

Cttltf) Goldsmith. 

T LEARN several great Truths : as that it is impossible to see 
into the ways of Futurity ; that Punishment always attends the 
villain ; that Love is the fond soother of the human breast. 

CtUtf). — Bacon. 
(CERTAINLY it is Heaven upon Earth to have a man's mind 
move in Charity, rest in Providence, and turn upon the poles 
of Truth. 

STttttlj.— Shakspeare. 
'TRUTH'S a Dog that must to kennel j he must be whipp'd out, 
when Lady, the brach, may stand by the fire and stink. 

Crutf). — Locke. 
'TRUTH, whether in or out of fashion, is the measure of Know- 
ledge, and the business of the Understanding; whatsoever is 
besides that, however authorized by consent, is nothing but Igno- 
rance, or something worse. 

ITnttJ*— Mackenzie. 

TT is curious to observe how the nature of Truth may be changed 
by the garb it wears; softened to the admonition of Friendship, 
or soured into the severity of Reproof; yet this severity may be 
useful to some tempers; it somewhat resembles a File, disagreeable 
in its operations, but hard Metal may be the brighter for it. 

HLxutf}. — South. 
'THE Reason of things lies in a narrow compass, if the Mind could 
at any time be so happy as to light upon it. Most of the writ- 
ings and discourses in the world are but illustration and Rhetoric, 
which signifies as much as nothing to a mind in pursuit after the 
philosophical Truth of things. 

CrUti). — Casaubon. 
'JHE study of Truth is perpetually joined with the love of Virtue ; 
for there's no Virtue which derives not its original from Truth ■ 
as, on the contrary, there is no Vice which has not its beginning 
from a Lie. Truth is the foundation of all knowledge, and the 
cement of all society. 



QLtufy. — CoUon. 
'THE adorer of Truth is above all present things. Firm in the 
midst of Temptation, and frank in the midst of Treachery, he 
will be attacked by those who have prejudices, simply because he is 
without them, decried as a bad bargain by all who want to purchase, 
because he alone is not to be bought, and abused by all parties, be- 
cause he is the advocate of none ; like the Dolphin, which is always 
painted more crooked than a ram's horn, although every Naturalist 
knows that it is the straightest Fish that swims. 


'TRUTH is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch, as the 
Sunbeam ; though this ill hap wait on her nativity, that she 
never comes into the world, but like a bastard, to the ignominy of 
him that brought her forth ; till time, the midwife rather than the 
mother of Truth, have washed and salted the infant, declared her 
legitimate, and churched the father of his young Minerva, from the 
needless causes of his purgation. 

CtUt f). — ShaJcspeare. 
r~)H, how much more doth Beauty beauteous seem, 
By that sweet ornament which Truth doth give ! 
The Rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem 

For that sweet odour which doth in it live. 
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye, 

As the perfumed tincture of the Roses - ; 
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly, 

When summer's breath their masked buds discloses; 
But, for their Virtue only is their show, 

They live unwoo'd, and uninspected fade; 
Die to themselves ; sweet Roses do not so ; 

Of their sweet Deaths are sweetest odours made. 

CtUtj).— Cowper. 
All Truth is precious, if not all divine, 
And what dilates the pow'rs must needs refine. 

CtUti). — Cotton. 
'THE affairs of this world are kept together by what little Truth 
and Integrity still remains amongst us ; and yet I much ques- 
tion whether the absolute dominion of Truth would be compatible 
with the existence of any society now existing upon the face of the 
Earth. Pure Truth, like pure Gold, has been found unfit for cir- 
culation, because men have discovered that it is far more convenient 
to adulterate the Truth, than to refine themselves. They will not 
advance their Minds to the Standard, therefore they lower ihe 
Standard to their Minds. 

I?. T EIN G S NE W AND OLD. 5 13 

STrUtf)*— -Ammian. 

TRUTH is violated by Falsehood, and it may be equally outrages 
by Silence. 

Criltf). — Murphy. 
None but Cowards lie. 

CtUtf).— Shakspeare. 
If circumstances lead me, I will find 
Where Truth is hid, though it were hid indeed 
Within the Centre. 

CtUtt). — Seneca. 
The expression of Truth is Simplicity. 

STrUtf). — Cowper. 

Much learned dust 
Involves the combatants, each claiming Truth, 
And Truth disclaiming both. And thus they spend 
The little wick of Life's poor shallow lamp, 
In playing tricks with Nature, giving laws 
To distant worlds, and trifling in their own. 

3TtUti). — Shakspeare. 
Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd ; 
Beauty no pencil, Beauty's Truth to lay ; 
But best is best, if never intermix'd. 

CtUtj). — Colton. 
'TRUTH is the object of Reason, and this is one; Beauty is the 
object of Taste, and this is multiform. 

CtUtt). — Tacitus. 
TRUTH is established by investigation and delay; Falsehood 
prospers by precipitancy. 

^TtUtf). — Ammian. 
Truth is simple, requiring neither Study nor Art. 

Ctlltfj. — Colton. 

TRUTH can hardly be expected to adapt herself to the crooked 
policy and wily sinuosities of worldly affairs ; for Truth, like 
light, travels only in straight lines. 

Crutf). — From the Latin. 
TRUTH, by whomsoever spoken, comes from Grod. It is, iD 
short, a divine essence. 

&nitf). — Fro m the French. 
THE adherence to Truth does not produce so much good in the 
world, as the appearances of it do mischief. 


Crutf).— Milton. 
TRUTH came once into the world with her Divine Master, and 
was a perfect shape most glorious to look on : but when he 
ascended, and his Apostles after him were laid asleep, then straight 
arose a wicked race of deceivers, who, as that story goes of the 
Egyptian Typhon with his conspirators, how they dealt with the 
good Osiris, took the virgin Truth, hewed her lovely form into a 
thousand pieces, and scattered them to the four winds. From that 
time ever since, the sad friends of Truth, such as durst appear, imi- 
tating the careful search that Isis made for the mangled body of 
Osiris, went up and down gathering up limb by limb still as they 
could find them. We have not yet found them all, nor ever shall 
do, till her Master's second coming; he shall bring together every 
joint and member, and shall mould them into an immortal feature 
of Loveliness and Perfection. 

Cuttf).— Cotton. 
IF a man be sincerely wedded to Truth, he must make up his 
mind to find her a portionless Virgin, and he must take her for 
herself alone. The contract too, must be to love, cherish, and obey 
her, not only until Death, but beyond it; for this is an union 
that must survive not only Death, but Time, the conqueror of 

CtUtt)* — From the Latin. 
Truth fears nothing but Concealment. 

CtUtf). — Steele. 

THOUGH men may impose upon themselves what they please, 
by their corrupt imaginations, Truth will ever keep its station ; 
and as glory is nothing else but the shadow of Virtue, it will 
certainly disappear at the departure of Virtue. 

^TrUtlj.— Anon. 
IS there less of Sincerity in Nature during her gambols in spring, 
than during the stiffness and harshness of her wintry gloom ? 
Does not the bird's blithe caroling come from the Heart, quite as 
much as the quadruped's monotonous cry ? And is it then alto- 
gether impossible to take up one's abode with Truth, and to let 
all sweet homely feelings grow about it and cluster around it, and 
to smile upon it as on a kind father or mother, and to sport with it 
and hold light and merry talk with it as with a loved brother or 
sister, and to fondle it, and play with it as with a child ? No other- 
wise did Socrates and Plato commune with Truth ; no otherwise 
Cervantes and Shakspeare. This playfulness of truth is beauti- 
fully represented by Landor, in the Conversation between Marcus 
Cicero and his brother, in an allegory which has the voice and the 


spirit of Plato. On the other hand, the outcries of those who ex- 
claim against every sound more lively than a bray or a bleat, as 
derogatory to Truth, are often prompted, not so much by their deep 
feeling of the dignity of the Truth in question, as of the dignity of 
the person by whom that Truth is maintained. It is our Vanity, 
our Self-Conceit, that makes us so sore and irritable. To a grave 
argument we may reply gravely, and fancy that we have the best 
of it : but he who is too dull or too angry to smile, cannot answer 
a smile, except by fretting and fuming. 

&VUfy. — OoUon. 

r FHE greatest friend of Truth is Time; her greatest enemy is 
Prejudice; and her constant companion is Humility. 

EtUtfj. — Colton. 
THE temple of Truth is built indeed of stones of Crystal, but, in- 
asmuch as men have been concerned in rearing it, it has been 
consolidated by a cement composed of baser materials. It is deeply 
to be lamented that Truth herself will attract little attention, and 
less Esteem, until it be amalgamated with some particular party, 
persuasion, or sect; unmixed and unadulterated, it too often proves 
as unfit for currency, as pure Gold for circulation. Sir Walter Ra- 
leigh has observed, that he who follows Truth too closely, must take 
care that she does not strike out his teeth. 

CtUtf). — South. 
HPRUTH is a great stronghold, barred and fortified by God and 
Nature; and Diligence is properly the Understanding's laying 
siege to it ; so that, as in a kind of warfare, it must be perpetually 
upon the watch, observing all the avenues and passes to it, and ac- 
cordingly makes its approaches. Sometimes it thinks it gains a 
point; and presently again it finds itself baffled and beaten off: yet 
still it renews the onset, attacks the difficulty afresh, plants this 
reasoning, and that argument, this consequence, and that distinc- 
tion, like so many intellectual batteries, till at length, it forces a 
way and passage into the obstinate enclosed Truth, that so long 
withstood and defied all its assaults. 

TtUtt). — Sir T.Broicn. 
TgVERY man is not a proper champion for Truth, nor fit to take 
up the gauntlet in the cause of Verity: many, from the igno- 
rance of these maxims and an inconsiderate zeal unto Truth, have 
too rashly charged the troops of Error, and remain as trophies unto 
the Enemies of Truth : a man may be in as just possession of 
Truth, as of a city, and yet be forced to surrender; 'tis therefore 
far better to enjoy her with Peace, than to hazard her on a battle. 



CtUtf). — Sir W. Temple. 
T'RUTH will be uppermost, one time or other, like Cork, though 
kept down in the water. 

Crtltj). — Sir Philip Sidney. 
JpTE that finds Truth, without loving her, is like a bat; which, 
though it have eyes to discern that there is a Sun, yet hath so 
evil eyes, that it cannot delight in the Sun. 

CtUtf).— Cato. 
jsjOME men are more beholden to their bitterest Enemies, than to 
Friends who appear to be sweetness itself. The former fre- 
quently tell the Truth, but the latter never. 

Cttttf). — Stede. 

TTUMAN nature is not so much depraved as to hinder us from re- 
specting Goodness in others, though we ourselves want it. 
This is the reason why we are so much charmed with the pretty 
prattle of children, and even the expressions of Pleasure or uneasi- 
ness in some of the brute creation. They are without Artifice or 
Malice ; and we love Truth too well to resist the charms of Sin- 

Cttttj).— Cotton. 

~^"0 bad man ever wished that his Breast was made of glass, or 
that others could read his thoughts. But the misery is, that 
the Duplicities, the Temptations, and the Infirmities that surround 
us, have rendered the Truth, and nothing but the Truth, as hazard- 
ous and contraband a commodity as a Man can possibly deal in. 

Cttltf)* — Drydm. 

\\TE find but few historians of all ages, who have been diligent 
enough in their search for truth ; it is their common method 
to take on trust what they distribute to